Can't Go Home Again
by PossumSoul
Summary: (4x01 AU) "You don't remember... the gunshot?" Rick says, letting cowardice guide him as it always does with her. "No, I remember I was giving the speech and everything just went black." What if she was being honest and really didn't remember her shooting? [COMPLETE W/ EPILOGUE]
1. Chapter 1

He feels weak... paralyzed.

The only thing keeping him moving is the energy shot through the air, the yelling and shouts he's drowning out. "Kate," His weak, shaking voice tries.

She wanted him out. She told him they were over. And now she's leaving him, trembling on the ground. Her head uncontrollably shakes and nods in his palm as he lifts it off the ground, her shoulders shivering under her uniform. The first instance of blood he spots is on her white dress gloves... a sight he will never forget as long as he tries. Her eyes, scared and wanting to speak, say so much.

"Stay with me," he pleads, the snake in his system coiling around his throat and heart, emptying his lungs. "Stay with me, okay?"

He just wants her to stay. Just be here, stay here with him. Don't leave. She may want him out but he's not ready to let her leave yet. He wants to stay with her. In the distance, he can hear chairs being knocked over, the women screaming and the men shouting at them to stay down, but the only thing his ears can register now is the sound of her trying to breathe. "Kate..."

She's dying.

"I love you." The shaking doesn't stop, her breath hitches, a painful sigh inward as her eyes darken. "I love you, Kate."

* * *

His eyes snap open at the sound of an incessant, annoying, ring in his right ear. They feel heavy.

Everything's felt heavy lately.

He looks around for a moment and finds himself at the precinct, where he's been for the past three weeks straight. This isn't the first night he's spent at Ryan's desk. He doesn't want to feel whatever feelings even sitting at her desk would assault him with. He has enough to deal with trying to stay stoic through all this as it is. Every lead has lead nowhere, every idea has fizzled out, every clue has been no help at all, and without her, he's the one that's supposed to have all the answers now. He's not the one that's supposed to be in charge. A failure for him is a failure for everyone here.

And he's failing... at everything.

When his phone rings again, the vibration making it slide to the edge of Ryan's desk near a picture of him and Jenny, almost falling off the edge, he scrubs his scratchy face with his palm and pushes his hair back, grabbing for his phone. "Castle."

"Rick, it's Jim."

"Jim?" He asks, not recognizing the name or the voice. He flicks away the crust from his left eye with his finger during the short pause on the other end of the line.

"Jim Beckett?" The man says with a lifting tone.

Within a single moment, Rick is awake and is sitting up straight in his chair. "Is there word?"

"She's awake, son."

His weak legs try to stand, feeling just as weak as they did that hot afternoon. That day, that horrific afternoon, has been a recurring nightmare. He isn't even sure to call it a nightmare. Is it a nightmare if you've actually lived it?

But he tries nonetheless and leans forward on Ryan's desk. "Is-is she... I-I mean, h-how is sh..."

"She woke up about ten minutes ago, Rick." Jim says after his words fail him. If he can't even talk straight, how is he ever going to do anything straight when he actually sees her. "She's with the doctor now. I figured you'd know better than I do how to get in touch with all her friends."

"U-uh Yeah, I'll uh..." he struggles to form a single sentence over that same serpent infesting his heart. "I'll let everyone know."

Jim thanks him and hangs up quickly and Rick's bloodless hand ends the call and slides his phone into the pocket of his wrinkled jeans. He feels it too selfish to think the things that are starting to float through the back of his mind, the same stupid fantasies and delusions of romantic grandeur that he's been able to spoil himself with. He knew it was a deep hole he was digging himself when he started three weeks ago, thinking of all the things that might happen when she wakes up.

If not for the dreams, he'd force himself to forget about it, to pretend it never happened like he wishes with every spare moment he could make it come true.

What was supposed to happen? She wakes up and the first thing out of her mouth was his name, like he had fantasized? That she'd be calling for him when she was taken off sedation, just wanting his presence, his spirit, in the room, near her, to calm her and let her know that he's there for her? No... those fantasies are best relegated to the wish fulfillment that are his novels. That's where they'll stay. Not like that's up for any sort of debate, anyway.

But, despite the push and pull going between his lovesick heart and his guilt-ridden stomach, he leaves the quiet precinct after posting on the murder board '_she's awake' _on a lime green sticky note slapped in the center.

If he were any sort of real man, the alpha that he boasts to be, he'd just rush down there in what he has on. But he cops out, out of cowardice he justifies, goes back to the loft and changes into clean attire of pressed slacks, a very dark blue, bordering on black dress shirt, and a sport coat. Why he's worried about appearance, now of all times, still baffles him, even as he's grabbing his wallet off his dresser and rushing out the door.

And forty-five long, but still too quick, minutes after, he's walking down the hall with a gift bag hanging nervously from his hand. He couldn't have just brought flowers like everybody else? She's going to be so annoyed with him. She's going to...

She's going to hate him.

His stride falters midstep, thinking about it. Standing in the hallway, distracted nurses and busy doctors buzzing around him, he stares at the two tall, imposing officers standing at her door. He hasn't seen her since she was wheeled away on that stretcher. He can try to justify it in his mind any way he wants to that his heart will accept as a valid reason, whether it be so unwilling to let up in his search for her shooter or to not be so selfish to spend time with her when she's in a coma and wouldn't even know he's there anyway. But he knows the truth. He always knows the truth.

Guilt.

But now, he has to face it. That's why he never came to see her before now. He still has a choice, but he wouldn't be able to live with not coming to see her now. Before, he could live, he'd just be worse off. There's no use telling himself to be strong, to be brave. If it hasn't helped him thus far, it won't now.

He takes an unsatisfying breath and goes to her door, standing between the two officers who tower over him. One last gulp past that evil serpent, and his sweaty palm grasps the knob and in one no-going-back-now motion, he pushes open the door and takes a step inside.

But his heart sends another violent stab of reality back through his system at what he sees and hears.

"Hahaha," they both seem to giggle with each other, Josh's arm hanging lazily over the side railing of her propped up hospital bed. He wants the willpower to turn around and walk out now, but couldn't wish for the conscience to live with it if he did. When will he be able to come to grips with the fact that there are people in her life that care about her more than he does? Who is he fooling besides himself?

The sound of the door opening seems slow to register to her, slowly turning away from her boyfriend and looking at him with her face devoid of any makeup and her skin looking pale, her eyes looking dark and tired, and her hair looking frizzy. But even with everything he's been dealing with, the denial and the guilt, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from her.

"Hey, Castle!" She calls to him in a weak voice, her hand still sitting idly in Josh's.

His lips turn into a smile before he can stop it and his smiling over at her, and can't stop it even as Josh's eyes bore into him, seemingly wanting him to vanish into dust. Rick notices quickly as Josh looks away, and he feels too weak and too ragged to try and assert his dominance over him. Josh is the one with the real place in her life anyway.

He's her partner, he tries to tell himself. They've been working together this long, just because there's nothing there romantically...

"I'll see you later, okay?" Josh says to her as he stands up from his chair beside her.

Kate smiles tiredly and lets her eyes drift shut briefly as Josh kisses her frizzy hair. Rick rips his eyes away and stares hard at the linoleum until he can hear Josh's footsteps coming toward him. Rick looks up only for a moment to see Josh eyeing him, the same glare he was met with when he entered staring back at him as he steps around him and out the door, shutting it behind him.

Something in his chest untightens, loosening its grip on his breath and letting his lungs relax for now as he looks back over to her.

There was a time, for the longest time the past few weeks, where he thought the last time he'd get to see her was in that ambulance, where the last time he'd get to see her eyes were dilated with fear as she looks up at him, where the last time he'd get to be around her and hear her voice was her throwing him out of her apartment the night before. But she's here now, she's alive, she's breathing, speaking, looking at him... staring at him.

"After this long, Castle," she begins as his still weak legs carry him over to the foot of her bed, "I'm kinda used to you staring at me, but... this feels weird."

"No, it's..." he starts and shakes his head, still unable to tear his eyes away from her, just drinking her in as much as he can to burn it into his hearts mind that she's still here. "I just never thought I'd see you again."

That earns him a small smile and a lift of her hand, the invasive IV snaking out of the top of her hand and down the bed as she brushes a stray strand of dried out hair behind her ear. "You know, Castle, most people brought flowers." She says, nodding toward his long-forgotten gift bag hanging from his hand.

"_Oh, _uh..." he starts and finally feels he got permission from her to approach and comes to where Josh had just been moments ago and hands her the large velvet gift bag, setting it as meekly as he can on her leg. "I know, but... flowers... you know, you get them, you _say _you're going to water them but you never do, they wilt and die and... you know, I figured the last thing you'd want is another reminder of... well, death."

The side of her lips pulling off to the side in a curious smirk, Kate reaches over and pulls at the top of the velvet gift bag and peaks inside. And when she sees it, her face seems to light up with a smile that makes him feel more alive than he ever remembers feeling. "Aww," she coos jokingly and pulls out the stuffed bear he bought her.

She takes the bear in her hand with a warm smile. The bear is a light, fuzzy brown, a plastic magnifying glass sewed into its right hand, a Sherlock Holmes Hat on its head, and a button on its left hand reading '_press me'. _

"I was going to get a cop but you always seem to enjoy reminding me that I'm not actually a cop... so..."

Her thumb strokes the plush fur on the bear's side, while her hand reaches over to squeeze the bears right hand.

"_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _Castle's voice says over a speaker in the bears plush stomach.

Kate looks over to him with a curious brow and clever grin, while Rick is leaning off to the side in the chair beside her, his elbow on one knee and his fingers tapping on his chin, tongue in cheek. "I accidentally recorded that in the store and I couldn't figure out how to record over it."

Kate cranes her neck and silently chuckles, letting the bear fall backward against her legs. "How poetic, Castle. I'm sure you're on your way to a Pulitzer."

Rick smiles, his heart warmed at the fact that he can feel it honestly. But in the silence that thickens between them, he can tell that the topic is veering onto them violently from the look in her eye.

"I heard you tried to save me."

With her wording, he looks away from her and leans forward. "Yeah, I..." he trails off, his lungs crusting over again as he quickly checks over what she said. "You heard?"

"Yeah, my dad told me what happened."

"Y-you..." he tries his hardest, "you don't remember me tackling you?"

She just shakes her head in a single motion, her eyes drifting away to the bear still in her lap.

This can't be real. She has to remember. "You don't remember..." _me telling you I love you, _he finishes in nowhere but his head, but swallows the words hard when he looks back up to her eyes, seeing them stare back at him with an arched brow, "...the gunshot?" He lets his cowardice guide him yet again.

But she's quick to shake her head and look away again. "No, I don't even remember the bullet hitting me. The only thing I remember is standing at the podium giving the speech and just... everything going black."

"So, you..." he tries and fails again, "you don't remember anything?"

"Yeah, the doctor said it might be my body's way of dealing with the trauma." She sighs painfully. She lifts the bear up and shrugs her arms with an eye roll. "I wish I _did _remember something. I might have seen something or heard something. What about you? Did you see anything?"

His mind is blank, but his heart is too heavy, wracked with emotions he can't all process at once. It's a long pause before he looks back up to her again, finally hearing her. "No, I just... I just remember seeing the glint in the distance and before I knew it I was tackling you, I... didn't see anything." _Besides you die in my arms, _he almost accusingly thinks to himself.

"Did anyone else see anything? I mean, there were dozens of people there. Someone must have seen something." She tries, not giving him a moments rest in her questioning.

"Beckett, seeing you get shot kinda... put a halt on everything else." He excuses.

"Well, did the shooter leave anything behind? Any footprints, DNA, shell casing? Anything?"

"He left behind the rifle, but the records on it came up a dead end and the DNA that CSU found on it wasn't in the database." He answers off the top of his head, not thinking what giving her the answer will do, what consequences he's leading himself into dealing with.

"What about the men that Montgomery shot in the hanger? Any way to trace them?"

"Beckett, can you just stop for a moment, please?" He asks in a tight voice.

But her answer is too quick, "Don't tell me to..." she lets the words fall as she shakes her head. "They killed my mother, Castle." She appeals to him, the bear in her hand long forgotten on the side of her bed. "They killed Montgomery and tried to kill me. I need in on this."

"Okay, but..." he tries, leans forward, and hesitates from reaching out to her and just putting his wrist down on the railing. "You're still recovering, okay? We'll get them, Kate." He tells her, catching her full gaze by the use of her first name. "I promise."

She blinks at him, her eyes softening after she takes a moments thought. "I guess you're right."

With a heavier heart than he walked in with, he stands with a most less honest smile than he offered at first and starts around the foot of her bed. "I'll let you rest then. I'm sure you're tired."

He sees her nod and take the bear in both hands, bringing it to her lap. "You wanna come by tomorrow? Go over what you have?"

His feet stop just a few feet away from the door and turn back to face her. He already dragged her to the gates of Hell. And now, she's refusing to leave despite getting burned. And all he's doing is keeping her there. "Why don't we wait until you're at least 50%, huh?" He says.

Her eyes drift away from him for a moment before she smiles heavily and nods. "You're probably right."

He smiles just as heavily as she did and goes for the door. And as he opens it and steps through, he can hear her press the button on the bear just as he's shutting the door. "_How do I... wait-" _

Once the door is closed, his hand hangs on the knob.

After all this time, all the pain she's been through... she wants to go back. There's no stopping her, is there? And it's him that got her here. If not for him poking and prodding where he didn't belong...

He's slow to start dragging his feet down the hall away from her room. Once he's a few steps away, his stride returns to normal and he's walking down the hall to his car. "Hey!" A familiar, but sickening, voice calls from behind. "Castle!"

Rick slows to a stop, his hands balling into fists and his inside lip stinging at his teeth gnashing on it. He doesn't turn around or look back, just waits until Josh is at his side and stepping in front of him. "What?" He warns in a harsh voice.

Josh stands in front of him, leaning forward with his shoulders. "I need to talk to you."

"Going off of the last time we talked, you really want to go down that road?" He says back, his eyes lidded and gaze coldly stoic.

Josh huffs a breath. "Look, I know what's going on between you and Kate, alright?"

"Then why don't you let me in on it, because I don't have a clue." He says back, his eyes still impatiently lidded.

"I want you to stay away from her." Josh demands with a finger almost jabbed into Rick's chest.

But Rick is in no mood to try and fight, and instead tries to appeal to what little moral ethics he has left. "That's not your decision to make, Josh."

"_Did you hear her, in there?!" _Josh seethes, getting closer to Rick's face. "She's been awake for two hours, and all she can think about is getting back to that case, chasing after her shooter!" Josh quietly argues at Rick's face. "I thought that her getting shot would at least bring her to her senses, but she's worse than she was before! And she's like that because of _you!" _

"Josh," Rick shakes his head, "I don't know what it is that you think Beckett and I have, but it isn't even what _I _think it is, because I am the _last _person that she listens to."

"You got her to look into her mother's murder in the first place." He argues.

"And you can rest assured that I will live with that guilt for the rest of my life, Josh."

"Look, if you care about Kate..." he says, narrowing his eyes, "then do what's best for her. Let her put this part of her life behind her where it belongs... and leave her alone." Even his well-trained whit can't perry that. He has nothing to come back with. "If you care about her at all, you'll let her move on with her life."

When Josh shakes his head again and steps around him, Rick speaks up, finally finding his voice and calling to Josh without turning around. "If you plan on asking her, Josh, don't do it while she's on the painkillers." He says and hears Josh stop. "Believe me, you won't be able to live with yourself if she gave you anything but an honest answer."

After a pause, thick with tension as he feels Josh's eyes bore into the back of his head, he hears him hasten down the hall.

He's not wrong. He wasn't before either.

And he's not wrong now.

Rick continues outside into the parking lot. His hands can only feel the shake and the tremble of her head, the quiver in her shoulders, and the fear in her eyes as she lay dying on the lawn of that cemetery... because he wedged himself into her life. Who knows what she'd be, where she'd have gone, if not for him tearing open old scars. She'll have new scars to deal with because of him now.

If the miracle that gave her another chance has any purpose other than that, it's to send him the same message he just got. He needs to stay away. Getting shot did nothing but want her to run at them even harder, and as long as he's around, she'll want to run as fast and hard as she can. It's time that he just admit that there's something about him that's bad for her.

And as Rick slows to a stop at his car, dragging his feet across the pavement to the driver side, his eyes burn with heartbreak and his gut churns with guilt.

He lost her.

And he never even got to have her.

Rick grimaces, grinds his teeth in rage at himself, and in a blind fury, balls his fist and sends it as hard as he can through the window with a grunt. And as the glass rains down onto the ground and the seat in small beads, his hand pumping with numbness, it's just a few seconds before it starts to hurt, and when he looks down and sees the blood running down his fingers and dripping onto the ground, he decides to live with it. To bear it.

It's only a fraction of the pain he caused her.

* * *

_A/N: Mad at me yet? ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

He's not trying to sleep, but he wants to. He wants to take that gamble that he'll have a good dream, or with any luck not dream at all and just be able to skip a few hours of the world. The music isn't helping, but he feels it's necessary. Maybe if he hears something that convinces him, he'll want to fight back out of some petty reverse psychology squabble done to his own psyche.

It's not working though. Listening to this, he wishes he actually was falling into a dark abyss.

Leaned back in his office chair in the dark with the shade to the window drawn and the door only cracked, he holds his poorly bandaged hand down onto a melted icepack and takes the next in a long succession of heavy breaths. There's a weight sitting on his chest. Before this morning, it was just a tightening, a compressed spring, he just felt tension pulling at him when she wasn't awake. But now that she's awake... it's like a heavy weight just sits on his chest, wanting to push the life out of him. A weight of what, burden, remorse, longing maybe... mostly guilt, as if guessing at it made it any lighter.

He knows the way Josh was talking, the phrases he used to assert himself. There's no other reason he'd choose those words, and if he's anything like himself, he chose them carefully and planned out his opponent's reactions. But then again, that's probably why Kate's with him in the first place, the polar opposite of him so she doesn't have to be reminded of him in her free time. He doesn't know why him thinking that Josh's words didn't mean what they meant is a sign that she simply will never see him that way, but it's a connection drawn that he can't take back now.

Another car hitched onto the dreary train of thought that's been clanging through the tracks of his mind ever since he sat down.

The loop of the music restarts after another few minutes as he hears the door to the loft open, and with the pace and energy in the footsteps coming through it, he's relieved to know it's his daughter coming through the door. "Dad?"

His lips force a smile onto his features at the sound of her voice searching for him, but he doesn't have a voice of his own to answer. She'll find him quickly.

He hears the footsteps of his daughter stop just on the other side of the cracked door to his office and sees her faint outline pear her head inside. And at her presence entering the room, his eyes burn. "Dad?" She asks in a softer voice. She shimmies into his office and reaches over, clicking on the light. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, sweetie." He lies, his brain focusing briefly on drinking in the emotional swell of the music coming from his laptop.

"You new book just got released, so I know you're not trying to write." She says and crosses her arms, pursing her lips and raising her brow. "This has something to do with Beckett, doesn't it?"

The weight in his chest doubles, because it's so much more than that and he doesn't want to break it to her. Not again. "What makes you say that?" He weakly tries to defend himself.

"Dad, you've barely been home from the precinct in three weeks and now you're sitting in your office, in the dark, listening to... what are..." she trails off and quickly rounds his desk and turns his laptop to face her, "the Gandalf falls one hour video on Youtube? And..." she trails off again as her eyes find his bandaged and bloodied hand. Like a switch, her face screws together with concern and she leaning forward grabbing for it."Dad, what happened?"

He nods his head away from her and grimaces. "The _stupid _car window wouldn't move."

"Dad, you need to have a doctor look at-"

"A doctor is the _reason," _he talks over her, "I punched out the window to my car in the first place, Alexis."

It's then that Alexis realizes that she finally got him to admit what the problem is, and is more than eager to make her frustration known and vent it. "So it _is _about Beckett." She sighs quietly and leans against his desk in the space between him leaning back in his chair and the edge of his desk. "What happened, is she okay?"

All he can do is muster up a small nod. "Yeah, she's fine." He takes a pause while his daughter, well versed by his mother, waits him out. "She woke up today."

He doesn't want to get into this with his daughter. She can't see him this weak. He's supposed to be the one she leans on, not the opposite. "How's she feeling?" Alexis asks after another pause.

Rick sniffles a bit through congestion that isn't there, and tries to move his fingers. "Alexis, do you remember the first time your grandmother came to stay with us?"

Her brow pinches a bit in the center. "Before Chet, you mean?"

"Yeah... right after your mother left?"

"Yeah, I was just turning... five or six, I think." She searches through her memory a bit. "Yeah, I was five. She came to watch me while you had to go out of town on business."

His heart clenches underneath the immense weight sitting on top of it as he admits to his guilt and cowardice to his only daughter. "Alexis, it wasn't a business trip. After your mother divorced me, I was-" _A complete failure, _he bites back, not wanting to let her hear him talk about himself that way, "going through a rough time, and I didn't want you picking up on that and thinking it was your fault. I didn't want you growing up thinking that we got divorced because of something you did."

"Dad," she says in a tone that's trying to be comforting to him. "Why would I think that? Mom cheated on you, I know what happened."

"Alexis, it's not that simple." He achingly says, finally looking up to his daughter. "Look, the point is, sweetie, is that I was dealing with a lot of things that I didn't want you picking up on, so I left."

"Well," she tries, all of this news to her, "where'd you go?"

Rick shrugs his shoulders, "I didn't have a plan. I just... went to the departures at the airport, closed my eyes and... picked one. The next thing I knew, I was on a plane to Istambul. And after I landed I just, sort of... drifted. I don't remember staying in the same place for more than a few days. I ended up in the Philipines three months later and just decided that I missed my little girl too much to keep going, so I came home."

Alexis knows what he's saying, and can tell it's hard for him. But she can also tell when his mind is made up. "What happened with Beckett, Dad?"

His answer is quick and too rushed to hide his emotions on the subject. "I don't want to get into it, Alexis. Just understand that this-"

"Dad," she stops him, finally gaining his eyes again. "I understand."

He can't hold back the emotion burning in his eyes anymore. "I'm sorry I'm leaving, Alexis, but I have to do this. It's the only way I can-"

"Dad," she urges at him again, "Gram and I will be fine."

He looks away and nods before slowly standing up in front of her. "Alexis, I can't tell you how sorry I am for putting you through all this. With Beckett, me at the precinct, all of it."

Alexis just nods and shoves off his desk and falls into his torso, wrapping her arms around her father. Rick squeezes her tightly and lays his cheek down onto her head. "I love you, Daddy."

His heart breaks when her words hit him. "I love you too, pumpkin."

"Does Gram know?" She asks against his chest.

"No, she'll try to talk me out of it." He says, gently urging Alexis off of him.

"How long will you be gone?"

Rick pets his daughter's shoulders lovingly and gives her the most honest answer he can muster up. "I don't know."

* * *

Still... nothing.

It's not like checking her phone will somehow increase the chances it will actually ring the next time she looks at it. But the only time she isn't glued to checking it, it seems like, is when the doctors and nurses aren't poking and prodding her, or when she's asleep. The painkillers are wearing off quicker. She's always tired, always, and she hasn't even been able to get out of bed yet for more than five minutes. The first time he managed once to stand was when the doctors wanted to see where she was in the beginning steps of her recovery.

And it was hell.

Her entire body felt new to her, having to relearn even the simplest thing like standing up on two feet seemed a brand new task. And the pain...

Maybe it hasn't hit her yet, the gravity of what actually happened. It might be a hidden plus side of not being able to remember getting shot. She doesn't remember the pain, the gunshot, the bullet hitting her, none of it. It's like she just blacked out suddenly in the middle of her speech and woke up in this new world. Josh seems more clingy than ever, her dad seems more distant and nervous than ever, no one from the precinct can seem to look her in the eye for more than a few seconds, and Castle... he hasn't even bothered to call.

Kate pushes out another long sigh, leaving her phone forgotten for the next few moments before she reaches over to the side of the bed and grabs onto the bear and brings it to her lap. She's grown far more attached to this stuffed animal than he probably anticipated.

And after fighting temptation for only a second, she pinches the bear's hand.

"_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _Her partner's voice says to her.

She misses him.

And right as the bear stops, the door opens. "Hey, sweetie." Her dad says in a low, monotone voice.

"Hey," she answers simply.

"I just talked to the doctor, he said you're ready to be released."

She forces a smile and a nod as she moves the bear to her side and hugs it in between her side and her arm. "Great." She says in a low voice.

Her dad comes to stand next to her bedside with his hands meagerly tucked into his pockets. Rick hasn't been around since she woke up, and he was busy talking with her doctor to catch him when he was here. The bear would only come from Rick, and she's been attached to it more than her IV. He's never been good at these situations. "Your mother was always the one to handle these situations." He says to her honestly.

Kate eyes him with a small smile and shakes her head. "It's alright, Dad. I just want to go home."

"You know," he says and takes a small step toward her, "you don't have to finish your recovery at home, Katie." She pets her thumb across the soft fuzz of the bear tucked into her side and stays silent. "The cabin is open... it's safe, it's out of the way. I know how much you love it up there."

He hasn't called. His phone is going straight to voicemail, and at the rate she's leaving messages, his voicemail is going to be full by the time she gets to her dad's cabin. It's been four days and he hasn't even tried to get in touch with her. A part of her was excited to spend this much time in bed, getting to discuss the case and trade quips while building case theory with him, him getting in trouble touching the machines she's hooked to. And it's not like she can go track him down. He's... he's gone.

"Mom taught me how to swim up at that lake." The thought floats into her mind and it makes her dad smile a heavy smile. She's worried how he's dealing with all of this, but maybe spending time up at his cabin with him will make him feel better, and maybe her. She can always check back on Castle if he ever answers his phone. Castle would love the cabin.

"I'll go sign you out and we'll go pack, okay?"

Jim goes to leave and opens the door just as another doctor, dressed in scrubs, appears at the other side of the door. "Hey, Mr. Beckett."

"Josh," Jim nods simply and squeezes passed him and disappears down the hall.

"Hey," Josh greets her with a smile and quickly steps up to her bedside. She dodges his lips and cranes her neck to make his lips land on her hair as she squeezes the bear tucked under her arm. Something about this whole situation she's stuck in is making her not only think, but feel how short and fragile life is. "I remember you were getting released today. I came down to check on you."

"Yeah, my dad's signing the release papers now. We're going up to his cabin for my recovery." She says, getting straight to the point.

"Really? I thought..." he trails off, pulling up a chair behind him. "I thought that you were going to finish your recovery back at home."

"I just need to get out of the city for a while." She says, uninterest seeping into her system as the bear gets half buried in the sheets of her bed, away from Josh's peering gaze. But she knows he wants to say something. And she'd rather deal with it now instead of have it be on her mind all summer. "Something on your mind?" She prompts.

"The charity, they... they called me yesterday and they want me to go back to Haiti for the summer. I told them no because I wanted to stay here and help you with your recovery."

She pushes out another sigh and looks away, pinches a strand of fuzz on the bear tucked into her side, feeling a clench in her small heart. She wants to tell him to go, but a part of her... she told him, they agreed that they'd give it another shot. The charity has been calling wanting him to go back for some time. He's been here every day, checking on her, sitting with her.

_"_Don't go."

A dull sting runs up her spine when she sees him tense back a smile.

"I'm still going up to my dad's cabin, and I'm..." she sighs, rolling her eyes, "I'm _really _tired, but... you can come up and visit when you get the chance."

Josh breathes a sigh that seems to vent his anxiety as he leans forward toward her. "So..." he hesitates, "nothing has changed between us, has it?"

"We agreed we'd give it another shot, right?" She answers back, looking over at him with heavy eyes. "I don't see any reason why that should change. I just... I just need to get back on my feet, okay?"

His smile turns heavy as he stands and quickly leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips. She's tired, and it seems a chore, but she accepts and lets him kiss her for a quick moment before he stands back up. "Just call me if you ever want to talk."

"I will." She says halfheartedly and looks away as he goes for the door.

And once Josh is outside, her heart starts to feel squeezed. This is... this is her life now.

She gulps down past her heart lodged in her throat, quickly reaches over and pinches the bear's hand again. _"How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _His voice says to her. Holding the bear's hand in her fingers, she lets her eyes drift shut.

* * *

He smiles to the clerk at the desk as he adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. The clerk, a young Asian girl, no older than twenty-five, smiles and blushes at him. "I'd like a room, please."

The girl smiles and begins typing. "Name?"

"Alex Rodgers," he tells her and adjusts his frameless, square-lensed glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Standard?" He nods with another friendly smile. "How many nights?"

"Just three."

She smiles and clicks a few more keys on her keyboard and reaches for a card on her desk. "First time in Singapore?"

He pushes out a heavy sigh as he takes the card. "Just here on business."

* * *

_A/N: Hey, you think reading that kiss was painful, try having to __write_ _it! __Reviews were nice, keep letting me know. :)_


	3. Chapter 3

The pain... no, she can get through it.

She plants her hand on the carpet again and surges as much determination through her muscles as she can, her arms shaking. She can get through this.

But the second any sort of pressure is set upon body, the surging pain courses through her muscles and tendons, sending her back down to the floor. She falls back down to the floor, sprawled out just two feet away from her bed, away from the salvation that just twenty minutes ago, felt like her prison. Her breath is coming in ragged, painful huffs as she tries to contain herself. She can't get overly emotional now. With all the work she has ahead of her, she needs to stay strong.

It was something so simple, so easy. Just a simple trip to the bathroom without that pitiful wheelchair sitting farther away from her than her bed is. She felt fine the past day or so, no pain, no shortness of breath. A simple trip across the hall to the bathroom was supposed to be easy. She made it to the door, but was clamoring for support, and was on her knees by the time she finally gave up and decided to just head back to bed. She calls it fortune that it was more a trip to test her mettle than it was to actualy relieve herself.

She's so weak, her body so pathetic and limp... things are never going to be the same, are they?

She's given up and decides to lay face down on the floor, her chest assaulting her with every wease she takes, her bandages fallen off and scrunched up underneath her baggy shirt. She loses track of time for the next couple of, what feels like minutes, as she turns and cluches her chest with her arms, emotion finally winning the battle and overwhelming her. She wants to cry out, to scream for help, but even though she's fallen already, she can't let go of her pride.

So, sprawled out pathetically on the floor, she lets hot, stinging tears fall from her eyes and go down her sweat-stained cheeks. She hates her body right now, betraying her like this.

The sound of a pair of workboots coming down the hardwood of the hallway makes her heart pound, but she doesn't have the energy to give it one more try. She's drained. Her dad finally reaches her door and it opens. "Katie, I'm-"

And at the sight of his only daughter sprawled out on the floor, the familiar knot in his stomach chruns. Even from here, a distance of six feet away or so, he can hear her whimper in pain as her legs are sprawled out across the floor, her hair falling down to the floor and covering her face, her arms on the floor with one hand reaching for her bed.

He's not strong enough to deal with this. Not without Johanna.

Paralyzed by terror, Jim stands in her doorway for far too long of a moment before something inside of him finally breaks and he drops the grocery bag on the floor and goes to her. "Katie, sweetie," He says and grabs her arms, pulling her up.

Her tears of weakness and whimpers of pain, coming out in sobs as her dad helps her up, just add to the helplessness that's draining all remnants of her usual confidence and determination.

"Come on, you're okay." Her dad says as he wraps his arms around her, helping her just the few feet she needed back to her bed.

Once upright and across the distance to her bed, she falls out of her father's arms and face first onto her mattress. Once onto the heavenly plushness of her comforter, she lets out a long pant, relaxing her sharp-pained muscles. Her dad helps her adjust herself back to where she was when he left, sitting back against the headboard, her laptop sitting against the wall with the bear sitting on top of it, and the TV turned off sitting on top of the dresser in front of her, with the window cracked open on the wall to her right.

The covers put back over her legs, she lets her eyes close as she catches her breath. "Thanks, Dad."

Jim is still slow to catch his own breath as he soothes over his daughter's covers and grabs the TV remote sitting just out of her reach. "Katie, you told me you'd stay in bed while I was out."

"I'm fine, Dad." She objects, just as stubborn and obstanet as she was growing up. It isn't until now that she manages to remind him just how much of a pain she was as a teenager. He thanks God in times like this that she's a cop and actually enforces the law instead of breaks it.

"You're not fine, Katie. I thought we agreed on that."

"I was just going to the bathroom, Dad. I've done it millions of times by myself before." She argues and grabs her stuffed bear's head and brings it to her lap, holding her arms over it and pouting.

"But you've never been shot before, Katie."

"I've felt fine the past two days, Dad."

"That's because you stayed in bed." He argues back and goes across her room, picking up the grocery bag from the floor. He comes back, finding her reaching under her shirt, adjusting her bandages. "Now, sweetie," he tells her, putting the grocery down to her nightstand and sitting down on the edge of her bed, "I know how used to doing things on your own you are. But you heard the doctor, Katie. You just have to give it time and you'll be on your feet again soon, but you _can't _push it."

"Dad, it was just _ten feet, _okay? I can't walk ten feet and I've been in recovery for-"

"A week, Katie." Jim cuts her off. "We've only been here for two days. It's going to take time. A lot longer if I have to come home and find you on the floor again, okay?"

Her eyes seem to soften as she looks down to her stuffed bear, flicking its magnifying glass with her index finger. "Are you sure the doctor said there wasn't any nerve damage?"

"I'm positive, Katie." Jim nods. "You just need to stay off your feet for a little while longer while your body heals, and after that just... take it step by step, okay?"

After a pause, Kate nods and looks out the window for a second. Jim goes to the grocery bag to pull out her filled prescriptions.

"Be careful with these, Sweetie. These pain killers are strong. I don't want you taking more than what the prescription says, okay?"

"Yeah," she says as her dad puts a single pill in her palm and then a bottle of water he twisted the cap off of.

After she downs the pill, Jim rummages around the grocery bag until he spots something sitting on the back edge of the nightstand next to her phone. With a warm smile, he reaches over the bag and takes it in his hand. "Wow," he says to himself as he brushes his thumb across the glass of his watch, "looks brand new."

Kate smiles to herself and takes another drink of water. "Yeah, Castle had it restored."

Jim looks back over to his daughter. She hasn't mentioned her partner since they left the hospital. "Really?" Kate nods in a slow, small motion and squeezes the bear in a loose hug on her lap, her eyes drifting away into memory. "That was nice of him."

"He had it pulled from the wreckage after my apartment blew up." She explains, thinking just how much he knew her to think that the one thing in that apartment she'd want back is the memento of how she pulled her dad back to sobriety. "He remembered why I wear it, so he had it restored for me."

"Hmm," Jim hums and brushes the glass, reading the time as just after one in the afternoon, "you never told me he was that thoughtful."

Kate rolls her eyes with a smile and looks out her window, "What are you, his cheerleader now?"

Jim shakes his head, letting the quip roll off his back. He likes Rick. From what Kate has told him, Rick is the kind of father he wishes he could be at times. Especially at times like this. He'd have the kind of courage and strength he needs to get her through this. "You know, your mother gave this watch to me as an anniversary gift." He says, taking her wrist and gently putting the watch on.

"Mom always said she gave it to you because she was sick of having to remind you of what time it was." She tells him with a smile, shaking out her wrist to adjust the watch.

Jim smiles and silently stands up, not wanting his daughter to intuitively pick up on the painful memories in his face of his late wife. Rick probably wouldn't leave. But Jim, he has to. Rick would stay and talk to her, go about the conversation and share memories with his daughter, however painful they might be to him because he would know that she needs it. But Jim... he just doesn't have that kind of strength. He makes it to the door before Kate's voice, in a nervous, quiet tone, calls. "Dad?"

His hand on the door jam, he looks back. "Yeah?"

"H-how did..." she starts, her eyes down on the watch and her arm hugging the stuffed bear to her. She closes her lips and sighs, letting her question dry up in her throat.

"What is it, sweetie?" Jim prods.

She's never asked her father this. She's asked her mother. She knows how uncomfortable her father is with these topics, how much he doesn't like talking about Mom. A part of her feels he's never actually dealt with her death, but who is she to talk? Like she has? But with Sherlock sitting in her lap, Castle's voice sitting inside, and with nothing better to do but sit here and stew in her thoughts and wait for the phone to ring, she has to find out. "How did you know Mom was it?"

An uncomfortable smile comes to Jim's face. He's always tried to stay out of personal matters as much as he can with Katie. A lesson he learned from her teenage years from her mother, to trust her to make the right decisions. But he knows, the hospital showed him as much, that Josh isn't it. It's a push and tug, a promise to keep to his wife to let her make her own decisions, or let her inherited blindness guide her down the path to making the wrong one.

"Well," Jim starts and comes back to sit down on her bedside, "it was pretty easy when your mother told me she was it." That earns him a bright smile and a silent laugh, "assertive woman, your mother."

"No, Dad, I'm serious." She says looking over at him, her smile still on her face.

Jim sighs heavily and feels his gut churn. "Katie, did you ever wonder why we'd never visit my family during the holidays? That we always visited your mother's side of the family?"

"I mean, I always wondered, but I guess I never put that much thought into it. Why?"

He sighs, now deciding to tell her about his own side of the family, and what made him fall as hard as he did for Johanna. "Katie, I was raised by a single mother. And... I was raised by a _bad _single mother. She blamed my father for where we were in life, for every mistake she made. She... she never owned up to anything. And when I was eighteen and found out the truth about him, I left and never saw her again. She was a bitter woman who blamed everyone else for her problems."

"What about your dad?" She asks, wondering why he's going off on this tangent, but curious at the same time.

"He was a Marine. My mother married him for the steady paycheck and to have a man in uniform. But once she realized that being married to a Marine wasn't all she hoped it would be, she left a year after I was born and I never got to meet him before he was killed overseas. Once I found out the truth... that my dad had tried for years to contact me before he died... I left and never spoke to her again."

"Dad, I'm... I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with Mom?"

Jim sighs and feels a warmth in his heart. "It was Christmas, and I was working late the night before at the law firm. Your mother and I were still friends at the time, and she came up to my desk and asked me if I was going home for the holidays. I mentioned that I was planning on coming in and finishing up some paperwork and she... she demanded... that I come with her and spend Christmas with her and her family. So, I agreed and when I got there... I've never felt that kind of... family before then."

Kate smiles a watery smile and looks away. "Mom always did stress family time."

"Family breakfast on Saturday morning was a tradition that your mother was brought up with, you know."

Kate's smile grows with more emotion, "She never missed it."

"To answer your question, Katie..." Jim starts painfully, his heart aching with memory, "I knew your mother was it when she showed me something that I'd never known growing up. That family is something you can't really go without."

Kate smiles and nods, squeezing the bear in her lap again and looking down to her wrist at her dad's watch. "When my apartment blew up, I went to stay with Castle for a while. Castle has this way of... bringing out the brightness in things without realizing it. It always stuck with me just how much his family loves him, how important they are to him. The first morning I stayed with him, I made everybody breakfast... just like Mom used to do. I've always wanted to do that when I have a family of my own."

Jim nods, not knowing what to say. His wife would. Johanna was always the one to guide him through these situations. The emotional withdrawal is a hurdle he's never really gotten over, left over from being raised by a single mother. Johanna was the one to counteract it in his life. But now that she's gone...

All he can do is put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and stand up. "Let me know if you need anything, okay, Sweetie?"

She silently nods and looks over with bright, excited eyes when she sees her phone ring. Jim keeps making his way out of her bedroom as she picks up her phone and looks at it, hearing her let out a small sigh, flip her hair, and put her phone to her ear. "Hey, Josh." Jim silently closes her door behind him. "Yeah, I'm fine." He hears her say through the door.

Drained, he lets hopelessness flood him.

He can't do this.

His only daughter sprawled out on the floor like that will haunt him forever. His wife is gone, her guidance, her strength, her grace... and her heir of it all, his daughter, is a long road down getting back on her feet. The sight of her at that podium, her doubling over, the sound of the gunshot, getting rushed into the ambulance... why hasn't Rick called?

It's a stupid question. He saw it. Just before they left for the cabin, he saw Josh pull that ring out of his pocket. He guessed he was planning on asking her before she left. He doesn't know why he didn't. Or maybe he did and Kate just isn't telling him. It's not that he doesn't like Josh, it's more that he knows Rick. In a lot of ways, he seems a mix of himself and his wife. The lighthearted brightness of his wife, and the lonely childhood of being raised by a single mother. Rick is the kind of father he wishes he could be.

But he never will be.

And as he goes back into the kitchen, his gut churns in guilt again as he digs in the last of the grocery bags he left sitting on the counter, pulling the bottle out.

One hand on the neck, the other white-knuckling the cap, the dark amber colored temptation sitting just a twist away. The never-ending game of tag that the drink offers.

In a flash, he slams the bottle down and rips his phone form his pocket, his thumb going quickly through the contacts. The phone buzzes in his ear a few times before it answers. "Hello?" A young female voice answers.

"Hi," Jim nervously says into the line, "is this Alexis?"

"Yeah? Who's this?"

"It's Jim Beckett. Kate's father?" He says, pushing his hand through his white hair.

"Oh, uhm... how is she?"

"She's fine. Is your father around?" He asks her quickly.

"I'm sorry, but..." she seems to hesitate, "he's out of town on business." He's at a complete loss. This was his only hope. "Can I call you when he gets back?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks, Alexis." He says and ends the call, letting his phone fall out of his hand and down onto the counter as he braces himself.

He's not strong enough to do this alone.

* * *

His hands shove deeper into his pocket as he looks up the steps of the temple. Times like this, he wishes he was religious. Maybe he'd find his answers easier.

He shakes his head and looks down, going up the steps, passed the other tourists. It's cloudy, a light drizzle in the air. The weight in his heart hasn't gone away. Maybe, he'll have to live with it. The crowd, in awe of the temple, the color and decoration of the pillars, the woodwork and inlay. They don't have things like this in the states, and least of all in New York. Trips like this remind him just how polluted and condensed the city is. Tokyo reminded him a little of home, but the people seemed nicer, more considerate.

He reaches the top of the steps and sees a crowd of small children gathered around a well at the enterance, dropping in coins through a barred grate, listening to them clang lightly as they go down. He smiles slightly to himself as he steps up to the well.

He pulls his hand out and brings a picture along with it, looking at her. He took it out of weakness. A trip taken to get over everything that happened between them, to give her a chance to move on without him screwing everything up, to give her a chance at a life that will make her happy, and he's here holding a picture of her in his hand, just as in love with her as he was when he left.

He breathes deeply, looking at her eyes in the photo and digs in the pocket of his jeans for a coin. His eyes go between the well and her picture.

He feels a hand pull on his jacket, and he looks down, seeing a small blonde child looking up at him with bright eyes. "Make a wish, mister."

He smiles at the girl and looks over to the picture one more time before dropping the coin through the bars. "I just want her to be happy."

* * *

_A/N: A small reminder... I've never been outside of the US. So if things seem vague, or downright inaccurate, forgive me. I'm going off of a map I have on the wall and images searches._

_So, what'd ya think? :)_


	4. Chapter 4

It's been too quiet around the loft.

There are, of course, times during the week when it's just her and Gram, maybe even her if Gram has a class or is just out and Dad is out on a case, but it's never like this. The loft just seems... dead. Her dad's been gone going on three weeks now. She's not a bitter person, she's never one to hold any kind of grudge, but lately, she wishes he'd never met Beckett. She's watched her dad go through heartbreak before, not really with her mom. She was only five, things just sort of happen at that age, and she was never all that attached to Gina, at least on an emotional level.

But they all knew that Beckett was different. Even Gram has been more open lately about Beckett being different to her dad.

On a personal level, she liked Beckett. She seemed genuine, unlike all the other superficial women that flock around her dad, hoping to get their hooks into the famed White Whale of Manhattan. She was getting tired of them. He may seem just fine, acting normal and charming when they're around him, but once they left, they left nothing but soured ambition and nihilistic sex behind. For the longest time after Gina, she just wanted her dad to settle down with someone and be happy. In the back of her mind, she thought it was going to be Beckett.

And now, he's off in Asia, or wherever he is right now, peeling away what he changed himself into for her to his old self.

With a long sigh, Alexis drops her chopsticks into the take out container and tosses it in the bag on the island and goes for the stairs. She has a bit of homework to get ahead of, and since Gram is out for the night, she doesn't have to worry about feeling bad for not wanting to entertain. She drags herself up the stairs and turns the hall to head to her room, but as she passes the door to the guest room, she hears a sound coming from her bedroom.

She stops for only a second, before realizing what the tone is, and increases her stride to her bedroom. It's probably Ashley, calling her on Skype to talk before he goes to bed. She flicks on the light and grabs her open laptop off her desk, the earbuds dragging on the floor as she sits on the end of her bed. She sits the laptop down onto her lap and puts the earbuds in, but her brow pinches and she sees it's a username she doesn't recognize.

Hesitantly, she moves her cursor over and clicks the green icon on the screen. "Uh... Hello?"

The unmistakable chuckle can only come from one person. "I'm not going to ask what took you so long to answer."

"Daddy!" She cheers as she sits up off her bed, sets her laptop off of her, and presses the earbuds in and bringing the mic on the chord closer to her.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk to me." He feigns insult.

"No! I was just downstairs and didn't hear my laptop." She explains, her heart bursting with joy at hearing her dad's voice. "Why are you calling me on Skype?"

"I left my phone at home, and just bought a new one today when I landed. Call it selective memory, but I could only remember your Skype name." He explains with his new phone, that he only bought today for this one phone call. He's missed his daughter too much to not talk to her again. "How are you, sweetie?" He asks sweetly.

"I-I'm-" she breathes, her smile breaking across her face, "I'm fine."

"So your grandmother hasn't driven you crazy yet?"

"No, we're getting along just fine. She's out for the night, actually."

"What about you, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She explains, half lies. And she knows that even over the line, however far away he is, his fatherly instincts her kicking in and can already smell it on her.

"Alexis..." He pulls it out of her.

She crosses her legs under her at the foot of her bed. "The loft is too quiet without you here."

He breathes a long sigh into the line. "I know. I miss you too."

"So, where'd you go?"

Across the line, Castle drags his finger across the steel railing on the balcony of his hotel room, listening to the low tide of the ocean down below. "Caught a late night flight to Singapore, stayed there for a couple days."

"Really? How was it?"

Castle chuckles and makes an about-face in his pacing across his balcony. "Yes, I got you something, Alexis."

"I wasn't asking that, Dad." She rolls her eyes.

"I don't know," he honestly explains. "After a while, places start to meld together. Maybe it's just because I'm not really sight-seeing."

"Where'd you go after that?"

"Headed off to Bangkok, then Hong Kong, Tokyo. I just checked into a hotel, so I thought I'd call you, see how you're doing."

"Where are you now?"

He pushes out a sigh and leans back against the railing, looking at his unopened shoulder bag sitting on the neatly made queen bed. "I got into Catania this afternoon."

"Like Catania, Italy?"

"Yep."

"Wait..." she takes a pause and turns back to her laptop. "What time is it there?" She asks, going to her internet browser.

But Castle leans into his hotel room for a second, where the only thing out of place is the bottle of wine he opened sitting on the table. "Just after three in the morning."

"Dad, what are you doing up this late?" She asks, almost on a chuckle.

But he laughs, "Alexis, I've been in half the time zones on the planet in the past month. I sleep when I get tired."

Alexis nods her head to herself, knowing that he's at least taking care of himself to the point of not being dead. And she can feel in the air between them that both of them have something serious on their minds.

With his heart lodged crooked in his throat, it's him that has to voice is first. "Alexis, I'm so sorry I abandoned you like this. I'm-"

"No, no, Dad..." she stops him, a sad smile fading into her face from the bright smile she answered the call with. "Gram and I both know how you feel about her."

He nods to himself, feeling his eyes burn in the salty air of the coast and looks down to his shoes. "I just really thought she was the one, you know?"

"Well," she pushes it out, looking over to the small notepad on the edge of her desk across the room, "maybe she still is."

But Castle shakes his head. "No, Alexis, I almost got her killed, and I don't know what miracle I was granted that she's still alive, but I'm not putting her life at risk any more by being around her just because I can't get over her. I just want her to move on with her life like I was never-"

"Dad, Beckett's dad called."

With that, every explanation and every excuse, every intention, sincere or otherwise, is gone. He's thrown back into the pit of his heart where the memory of her, and the feelings he's told himself are buried, live. "He did?" He asks, a tight grip of dreadful anxiousness choking the life out of him.

"Yeah, he called about a week ago." She says, grabbing the laptop and moving over to her desk.

"Ho-how's..." He hesitates, not knowing if he even has the right to ask about her anymore.

"I asked," she finishes his question in her head, giving him an out of asking, "and he said she was fine, but..."

Castle swallows passed his emotion, "But?"

"Dad, he sounded... off."

"Off how?"

"I don't know, like... he was..."

Castle's eyes drift shut as his mental lexicon pulls up a piece of information. "Like he was drunk?"

"No, it's not that. He just sounded really anxious. He asked if you were here and I told him you were out of town on a business trip. But," she says, grabbing the notepad off her desk, "I wrote the number down in case you ever came home. He just sounded like he-"

"Like his daughter just got shot?" He finishes for her. "Alexis, I don't think he was calling for Beckett."

"Then what was he calling for?"

He sighs heavily again, deciding not to explain what it feels like being a father. Alexis broke her arm when she was seven coming down the stairs, and he went out of his mind then. The long three weeks where he was willing to break both of his own arms if it meant bringing his little girl out of that struggle were the worst of his life... until all this happened. He can't begin to fathom what it would be like having to watch her go through what Beckett is going through. That takes a special kind of strength.

"Give me the number, Sweetie."

* * *

The picture in his hand shows his hands are shaking.

The crusade to avenge her death was never his idea. She was young when she took up that mantle. He never cared much for catching who did it. He just wants her back. Katie probably accepted her death. She may have gotten lost searching for her killer, but she at least accepted it her death. He just wants her to move on, live her life.

But right now, that's a ways away. Right now, she's just trying to get her life back. And it's killing him.

His fingers pinch the photo at the bottom where his wife looks back at him with her beautiful smile. He misses her so much. Then his eyes travel from the steering wheel to the passenger seat, where the unopened bottle sits. He's been out all day, busying himself. He tried to fish. He usually enjoys it, but when he's literally worrying himself sick if he'll come back and find her on the floor again, he can't. But he told her he'd stay out for the day.

Josh came down and is spending the day with her. She texted him a while ago, saying they were in the middle of a movie. But he lied to her, gave her an out, and excused himself by telling her he picked up a tip at the bait shop about night fishing. Instead, he's sitting in a deserted parking lot in his car, being tempted by a creature he thought he'd thrown off his back years ago.

She doesn't have any idea what he's going through, and she can't either. It'd slow her recovery and she's slowly getting back on her feet. She can move from room to room now with help from a walker and pain medication, but it tires her quickly. She was even wearing jeans for the first time when he left this morning.

He grimaces to himself as he rips his eyes away from the picture and his hand flies down to the seat. But when his fingers touch the label, his phone ringing on the dashboard stops him. Frustrated, he grabs it and answers. "Yeah."

Rick takes a pause on the other end of the line, standing at the foot of the ocean. "Jim."

Jim's breath catches. "Rick?"

_So that's what Alexis meant, _he thinks to himself as he traces the outline of the moon on the water. "Alexis told me you called."

"Yeah, b-but... that was last week, Rick."

"I'm sorry, I've been..." he stops, searching for words precise enough but vague at the same time, "indisposed. Is this about Kate?"

"No, not really." Jim says honestly, shaking his head and looking back down to the picture of him and his wife, him being the afterthought in the photo. "Aren't you going to ask about her, son?"

Rick swallows and stares out into the ocean, "I don't think I have that right anymore, Jim."

"She's fine, Rick." He answers for him. "She can move around now, but it's slow." He explains in a tight voice.

"Look, Jim, I appreciate the update, but..." Rick decides to here that he needs to be the one to lead the conversation. He called looking for someone to talk to, and he can't be the one to be overly emotional. Jim sounds stressed enough. "You didn't call me because I was Kate's partner, did you?"

"Rick, I'm not strong enough to do this." A blurt of honesty rips out of him, making him feel weakened and vulnerable. "Johanna was always the strong one. I don't know how to do this."

"So why call me, Jim?" Rick gazes out calmly onto the water, the city behind him quiet for the night.

"Come on, Rick. Katie's always saying what a great father you are."

"Jim," he chuckles darkly, letting her compliments go unnoticed, "you're a much better father than I ever could be."

"What makes you say that?" He asks incredulously.

"Because you did something for your daughter that I never could. You picked the right mother." He says back, a forceful tone sneaking out of him. "Kate's mother may be gone, but at least she gave a damn."

"And now she's gone, so what do I do?"

"Just..." Rick trails off, calming himself, "do what your father would do."

"I didn't _have _a father, Rick."

Rick slowly closes his eyes, a familiar turn being taken in his heart. "Then you probably made your daughter the exact same promise I did when they put Alexis in my arms for the first time." He says, wondering if he'll tell him without being asked. The emotional withdrawal isn't easy to get passed. "What was it, Jim?"

Jim gulps and sets the photo down to his leg. "That I'd never put her through what I went through."

Rick nods to himself, the time he made that same promise... the promise he broke... to his own daughter. "We're not allowed to go back on that promise, Jim."

Jim is silent on the other end of the line, and somehow, Rick knows what he's thinking, what he's going through.

"The emotional withdrawal isn't easy to get over, Jim. I know." Rick explains, pushing his hand deeper into his pocket. "When something bad happened, your dad wasn't there to teach you how to deal with it, and your mom... she was too busy working to tell you everything was going to be okay. So you do exactly what I did, and you bury it... and you hide it behind clever quips and excuses. It's not easy to break the cycle of neglect, Jim, but you can't let it win now."

"Rick, I came home last week and found her on the floor!" He defends himself. "I was only gone for twenty minutes while I went to get her prescriptions filled. I walked in and found her curled up on the floor whimpering! How am I supposed to deal with that?"

"You deal with it like a good father would. Being too weak to deal with it isn't an excuse, Jim, and doesn't give you any reason to go back on your promise to be there for her. When it comes to our kids, we're not allowed to be selfish and hide behind the excuse that you just can't deal with it. Because the second we do, we become exactly like our own fathers."

Jim nods to himself, his heart dragging back down any more words of weakness and pleading.

"Look, Jim," Rick starts again, shifting his feet and tugging on the inside of his pocket lining, "I'm not going to pretend I understand what you're going through. I... I really can't imagine what it's like having to watch her go through that kind of pain, but..." he shakes his head, unable to even think about it himself, "your daughter is the strongest person I've ever met, and in my line of work," he smiles, "I've met _a lot _of people."

Jim smiles, chuckling under his breath. "That comes from Johanna, Rick, not me."

"She can get through this, Jim. I know it. She just needs time."

Jim nods to himself again before he decides to shift the conversation. Something he found out, something Kate probably doesn't know yet, is that Rick can be wise when the situation calls for it. "What about you, Rick?"

Rick's emotions, kept under control the past few minutes, well up with a vengeance in his throat. "Jim, I don't expect you to ever forgive me for putting her through all this."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was the one who dusted off the file on your wife's murder in the first place, Jim. It was me who pushed her to look into it. It was me who said that we could do it. I promised her that everything would be fine if we were careful enough, but I was wrong and because of that, she almost got killed."

Jim sighs, his eyes narrowing out toward the windshield. "Is that why you haven't called her?"

Rick blinks at his burning eyes and looks back down to the sand. "It's for a lot of reasons, Jim."

Jim nods, understanding in the least. "You know Josh came down this morning, spent the day with her."

With those words, Rick's heart is ripped from his chest, what's left of it. "Good." He responses in a light voice.

"He's planning on proposing to her, Rick."

"Did..." he hesitates to dig, "did he ask you?"

"No, I saw him look at the ring the day we left the hospital. I don't think he's asked her yet."

Rick nods, "Yeah, I told him it'd be better to wait until she's recovered. It wouldn't be right if he got anything but an honest answer out of a delirious Kate Beckett who's high on prescription pain medication."

Jim waits him out for a second before continuing. "You really think Josh has that good of a heart, Rick?"

_No, _"Kate wouldn't say yes to a man who didn't, Jim."

"How do you know that?"

He sighs again, throwing out a couple of responses in his head before he tells Jim something that might help him, instead of ease his own conscience. "Becuase neither would Alexis."

Jim smiles again and looks down to his lap, at the photo still in his hand. "What do you want me to tell her, Rick?"

His heart freezes. "That's your decision to make, Jim." He says with his tattered heart in his throat. "It was good talking to you."

"Yeah, you too, Rick." He says and hangs up, letting his hand fall down to the center console, putting his head back against the headrest.

She's strong. She can get through it. If Rick Castle says she's the strongest person he's ever met, then she can get through it.

And as these words dance in his mind, his eyes turn to the bottle on the seat.

* * *

_A/N: Emotional, huh? :o _


	5. Chapter 5

She can't get comfortable. The ache is dull tonight. Her room is humid and sticky. The ceiling fan is clicking too loud and her window open next to her bed isn't helping.

Kate kicks out the sheets again tiredly and slowly rolls onto her back, letting her head list off to the side and grabs for the bear mindlessly, pulling it to her side. She's tired, but she just can't get to sleep. Maybe it's the crickets outside, they're being noisier than usual tonight. Or maybe it's the rustling in the distance, the wind blowing through the limbs of the trees, making them creak. All the sounds of the woods are making her brain over-active. They're usually soothing. But tonight, they're just keeping her awake. She's supposed to be used to annoying ambient noise, she lives in the noisiest city on the planet.

Her chest and side are aching a bit, a dull pain that the pills won't help. It's not debilitating, she has to live with it for now.

For a moment, Kate gives up and opens her heavy eyes to the ceiling, letting her mind wander as she adjusts the bear in her side. She chuckles at the childishness of it, clinging to this bear as much as she has been. _They wilt and die and I figured the last thing you'd want is another reminder of death, _she recalls his words when he gave Sherlock to her at the hospital. It still makes her smile. She loves it because she doesn't have to force it, she doesn't have to pretend it makes her feel better for anyone else's sake.

When a small thought floats into her mind, her hand adjusts the bear again and her fingers pinch the bear's hand. "How do I..." she lets her eyes drift shut at the sound of his voice from the bear, "wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" Sherlock parrots.

She thought she would have a hard time getting rid of him when her recovery started.

Kate squeezes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to force herself to sleep, not wanting to think about it anymore. But the sounds and noises of the woods are getting louder. And after a minute of hearing them get louder, she decides that the heat in the room is bearable if she can just get some sleep. With the dull ache still sitting in her chest, she sits up and reaches for the window to close it.

But her whole body jumps when the moonlight catches the beady eyes of a grizzly bear looking through her window.

Kate jumps back in her bed, her back slamming against her headboard, her body frozen with terror. Her hand fists Sherlock's leg as the bear huffs, fogging up the glass. It grunts as its massive paws crush the hedges below her window. Kate's heart is frantic, galloping up and down her spine. She can't even breathe. She's trembling as the bear's massive mouth opens and roves over her window, showing her its giant teeth while he scratches the glass with them.

The first breath she's able to release is nothing but a small gulp.

And she feels the life drain from her whole body when she sees the grizzly move to stand on its hind legs and put its gigantic paws and massive six inch long claws against her window, slamming it shut. At the thud of the window pane, she gasps in terror and yanks Sherlock to her chest. The bear stands against her window for what feels like a lifetime, moving his head around as if he's looking for a way to get in. Kate flutters her eyes closed, the dull ache turning into an intensely sharp pain in her heart when it won't stop slamming against her scar.

"_Rwagh!" _The bear roars from the other side of the window.

Her eyes sting as she feels a tear leak out onto her scared face. She's going to die here.

The grizzly grunts and falls back to the ground and quickly lumbers off. The crunch and the rustling of the foliage outside quiet down after another few long moments and Kate is finally able to feel her heart beat normally and she lets out a giant breath.

Drenched in a cold sweat, she stares into the darkness and admits to the terror, for once, doesn't fight it off and gives into it. She hugs Sherlock to her as tight as she can, pressing his hand when she closes her burning eyes. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _

She listens for the roar, for the scratch of its claws, the gnashing of its teeth, but hears nothing.

So she presses his hand again. "_How do I... wait, like now? Check one, is it... hello?" _

She breathes in as slowly as she can and lets it out just as calmly. Her fingers are still holding Sherlock's hand, pressing his button as soon as it will let her. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello? _

After another few seconds, she feels the sting go away. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?"_

* * *

Her eyes slowly adjust to the sun shining directly in them through the window.

Her tired body lulls her onto her back as she brushes her hair out of her face, her arm hugging Sherlock to her. It's not until her eyes look at the window and see the strange smear on the glass that she recalls the night before. As soon as the memory jumps into her mind, she snaps upright and checks outside.

Her caught breath lets out when all she sees is some smashed plants in the flower bed under her window. She would have sworn it was a dream if the smear from the bear's saliva wasn't still on the glass. Her heart rate simmering down, she feels herself still hugging the stuffed bear to her side. And when she feels his soft fuzz, her heart aches with a new pain she wishes she could make go away with the pills she needs to take before getting out of bed.

Her dad is supposed to leave back home tomorrow while she stays here to recover on her own. She's back on her feet for the most part. She can get dressed on her own now, take care of herself, make her own meals now. The wheelchair and the pitiful walker she graduated to soon after are both folded up and tucked away in the closet. All she needs to do now is put in the work and she'll be back to normal.

If she can get normal back. She's not even sure she knows what normal is for her now.

Her mind becomes aware of the soft fuzz she's petting with her thumb and she looks down, bringing Sherlock up to sit on her lap. This stupid little bear has been attached to her since he gave it to her. And now that her dad's leaving, she'll be left more alone with her thoughts than she was before.

"_You know what we are, Castle? We are over!" _Her words violate her conscience.

She thought they were okay. She thought he knew she wanted to forget about it all. He even seemed his normal self at the hospital. He even said he'd call her! Sherlock's small, black, plastic eyes bead into her's as they sting with emotion. "I didn't mean it, Castle."

She pinches is hand. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _

Kate rolls her eyes to herself and shakes her head, leaning back against her headboard. "If I knew you were actually going to listen to me, I never would have said it."

This is why she doesn't want to be left here alone. But a small part of her wants to be here alone for this very reason, to be left alone with these thoughts, to let them consume her until she's lost.

She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the headboard and thinks of him. But after a moment, she hears the branch of a tree rustle and the loud smashing pop of a glass bottle breaking apart just outside. She leans forward to look, but all she can see is the limb of the tree marking the tree line of the cabin bobbing up and down. Deciding she has to check it out, she yanks the covers off, with Sherlock buried underneath the covers, quickly downs her pain medication and stands up.

Slowly, she drags herself around the cabin, checking the rooms in her pajamas until she sees the sliding glass door out to the deck is open and her dad is standing on the railing looking out onto the woods in a pair of jeans, hiking boots, and a flannel shirt. She steps through the kitchen and puts her hand on the sliding glass door and leans out. "Dad?"

Jim turns at the sound of his daughter's voice and smiles warmly. "Hey, sweetie." He says happily. "You're up pretty late."

"Yeah," she starts worriedly, looking around the deck in search of anything out of place. "I had some trouble getting to sleep last night. Is..." she trails off as she paces across the deck toward her dad, seeing a picture laying on the railing, "is everything okay? I thought I heard something break."

"Fine, sweetie."

Kate drags her feet over to the railing and looks to the cap sitting down next to the picture. And when she recognizes it, her heart turns cold. Her hand reaches up, almost trembling, and she takes the familiar black cap in her thumb and forefinger. "Dad..."

"Katie..." he tries.

"Dad, this is your brand." She eyes him with a hardened brow. When she sees his eyes close and his head list off to the side, her heart breaks. "No, Dad, I can _not _have you fall off the wagon again. I thought we beat this!"

"Katie!" Jim says, putting his hands on her arms. "I'm fine... really. I opened it, but it was only to pour it out." He says and motions to the moist puddle of soil in the flower bed on the ground next to where he's standing on the deck. "Okay?"

Her heart falls back into her chest as relief slowly washes through her. "Dad," she starts, putting the cap down, "why would you even think about this?

His eyes turn heavy and one of his hands fall off her arm. "Truth is, Katie, it's been..."

"Been what, Dad?" She almost pleads with him.

"Been really hard watching you go through all this." He says honestly, a dark pang of hopelessness seeping into his gaze. She looks over at him and hears him out, having no idea how this was affecting him. He's always been so reserved. "I bought the bottle a few weeks ago and it's been staring me in the face ever since."

"But..." she lets the words fall on a hard sigh. "But you never drank?"

"Not once," Jim replies sternly.

She breathes another hard sigh, believing him. He wouldn't be this upfront and non-defensive if he had. He'd have thrown her off if he actually drank from that bottle he tossed into the woods. "Dad, why didn't you ever tell me that you were thinking about drinking again?" She tries to pull some talk out of him.

Jim laughs softly, "I didn't want you worrying about me on top of recovering from a gunshot, that's why." Kate sighs again, shakes her head, and steps into her dad's side as he turns to face the woods again. And now that the fears of him falling back down the rabbit hole are gone, she looks at the picture again. A familiar picture that she sees every time she goes into her bedroom.

She smiles and takes the tatters and wrinkled photo in her hand. "I have this picture at home."

Jim smiles with his daughter and rubs her shoulder. "Your mother was a beautiful woman."

Kate's memory floats around her mother. It's rare when they share memories of her. A joined pain that neither one of them like to remind each other of. Her mother loved it up here. "I miss her."

Jim's heart tugs. "So do I, sweetie."

She lets her heart wander. And when her eyes look away from the picture and stare off into the woods of the late morning, she can feel her dad's eyes on her. She has another few weeks to speed along her recovery... then she gets to go back home. Back to her job, to the precinct, back to her apartment... to a new captain. It's overwhelming just how much of everything she'll have to get used to when she thinks about it all at once. And her partner...

She kicked him out. He listened to what she said that night and he actually left.

He abandoned her.

"Katie," her dad starts suddenly, pulling his arm off of her and leaning against the railing next to her, "did I ever tell you why I started drinking?"

Kate looks over, her heart wrenched with emotion. "I know why you started drinking, Dad. Mom had just died."

Jim shakes his head, "It... wasn't only that." He says in a heavy voice. "Katie... after your mother died... I began to think things. And I hated what I was thinking because I knew it was the part of me that she helped me overcome. I started to wish that I could... go back. I wanted to make it so I never met her in the first place just so I wouldn't feel that way. I hated the pain of losing your mother like that. And I drank so I didn't have to feel guilty for wishing the love of my life had never existed."

She'd be angry... if she didn't understand so much. Avoiding the pain of losing that part of yourself by wanting never to go after it in the first place. Putting up as many barriers and hiding behind as many excuses as you can just so it doesn't become what you dread to lose. Killing it before it makes you wish it would kill you to end the misery it caused.

"What changed?" She asks, her eyes staring hard out into the woods.

Jim takes a small breath before continuing. "Every day, I'd ask God to give me a chance to go back and make it so I never went to that stupid Christmas party with her. But then I started to realize that if I actually was given that chance, it might take away the pain, but... it would take away everything else."

"But you'd stop hurting."

"Katie, if I actually got the chance to go back, do you want to know what I'd change, even if I knew in advance how it was going to all end?" Jim asks his daughter, who looks back over to him after a pause, searching for his answer. "Nothing."

Kate's eyes hold her dad's for a moment, wanting to know why he answered so sincerely.

"It may stop the pain from losing her, but... think about everything else I'd lose. Like you, Kate."

Kate swallows and turns back to the woods. "But what if Mom never got murdered?" She asks, putting herself into context. "What if she just left? Would you change things then?"

Jim tries again softly, "Katie..." he didn't want to speak for Rick. He didn't want to say anything Rick might not mean or wouldn't want said. "Rick cares about you."

Kate stays silent, wanting more than anything to have it in herself to be furious at him.

"I mean... Katie, I was in the audience at that funeral when you were shot, and I don't remember seeing you past the time Rick tackled you, and I've been having a hard time coping with it." He says, taking the bottle cap of the whiskey in his fingers. "But Rick was by your side the whole time, from the moment they wheeled you into surgery."

Kate's eyes drift shut, thinking about everything her partner had gone through. She remembers how he is when things like that hit him in the face. He's not built for things like that. "You know, when John Raglan was shot in that diner, he was right next to me." She recalls. "When he saw the blood on my shirt, he thought I'd been shot. Dad, he had this... he looked like a ghost. He was always a little too fine around dead bodies, but... this time..."

He had to watch the lights go out.

"Dad, Castle and I had a fight." She admits, needing to tell someone. "The night Montgomery was killed, we had this huge blowout."

"About what?"

She shakes her head at her own bullheadedness. "He accused me of using mom's murder as an excuse to not move on. And I accused him of playing around in my life. I told him that we were over and I wanted him gone."

"But Katie... you said he seemed fine at the hospital. He's the one that gave you that bear I always see next to you, isn't he?"

"Yes," she nods, "so that means something changed. Something happened when I got shot that changed something between us and I can't remember what it is."

* * *

It's mostly empty. But then again it's a Tuesday and it's the middle of the day.

The voices of a few other tourists echos off the marble in the museum as his shoes squeak on the floor, approaching a stone bust in a line of others along the wall. He stares at it through his glasses and sighs. He's just wasting time before he picks a new destination. He knows that.

"Marcus Aurelius." A gruff voice says from behind him.

He turns and sees an older man with a white beard and short white hair standing behind him, standing about as tall as himself. The man is wearing a dark army green cargo jacket, a grey polo shirt, and jeans, much the same outfit he's wearing himself. He adjusts his glasses and straightens his shoulders, scratching his own light hair on his jaw before giving the man a nod silently and turning back to look at the stone bust. "Oh?"

"Mmhmm," the man says and takes a step closer to him. "Roman Emperor, considered a philosopher king."

He lets the words go between his ears, uninterested in conversation.

"Funny, you know his famous work 'Meditations' he actually wrote to himself. He ordered the works to be burned upon his death and ordered them never to be read."

"Let me guess," he continues, "they didn't listen."

"Nope," the man chuckles, "they found the work so compelling they felt it too good to burn." The man stays standing just behind him, and he decides to wait him out until he moves along to bother someone else. "Since is it possible that you may be quitting life this very moment, govern every act and thought accordingly." The man rattles off.

He looks over his shoulder and sees the man's eyes in a book, and watches as the man looks back up and presents the book to him.

"Quote from his book." He says and hands the book to him.

Castle takes it reluctantly. "Thanks, but I'm not really looking for answers."

"In my experience, kid," the man says and starts to turn away, "a man who's not looking for answers is looking for excuses." With that, the man takes off down the large hallway of the museum in a casual pace.

Castle shakes his head and lets the book fall down to his side. It might give him something to do on the next flight.

* * *

_A/N: If I'd known you guys were going to use the reviews to debate with each other, I would have written something else. Appreciate the boost in numbers tho! C:_


	6. Chapter 6

"Hi, Dad." Alexis splits a smile across her face as she moves her textbook off her legs and presses her phone to her ear.

"Hi, pumpkin." Rick says over the line, taking a casual button up shirt out of his bag that sits on the table. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Waiting for Gram to come home so we can decide where to order from."

"Don't you guys cook?" Rick asks, throwing the flannel button up over his black t-shirt.

"Not so much since you left." Alexis forlorns. "I don't know if it's because neither of us knows how or because we just don't feel like it without you here."

"Well, when I come back, I promise I'll make you all your favorites. Okay? I picked up some cool knife techniques while I was in Japan I want to show you."

Alexis' heart flutters with a small twinge of excitement but is tempered quickly by mere hope. "Does that mean you're coming home soon?"

Rick sighs as small as he can, so she doesn't hear it over the receiver, while he picks up the book the stranger gave to him in Rome last week. "Soon, sweetie. I promise."

"Dad," she says, her selflessness overcoming her desire to see her dad again. And on the other end of the line, her father waits with a heavy heart. "I don't want you to come home until you're ready."

"Alexis," Rick sighs heavily.

"Dad," she stops him, "if you really felt the way you say you did about Beckett and you're still determined to move on, then... then I don't want you coming home until your ready." Alexis practically demands. "Okay? Don't rush home for my sake."

Rick's heart cracks and he feels his throat clog as he juggles the book in one hand before turning and sitting down on his bed. "Alexis, it was never really about moving on."

Alexis's heart shrinks, because that's the answer she was afraid of.

"I left to give her a chance at a normal life without me. And I can't be around her anymore and not be with her. If I was a strong enough person, I would just... tell her how I feel and let her reject me, but..." he minces words, knowing he already did and was granted a lucky break by the powers at be, "I'm not."

The teen's heartaches, wanting her dad to just be better, back to his old self. "You know, you used to give yourself more credit, Dad." Rick laughs halfheartedly and looks down to the book, his bookmark sticking up a quarter of the way through. "Beckett would be lucky to have you."

He smiles his first real smile that he's gotten in what feels like a lifetime. Because he used to believe that, right up until the moment that bullet shot through her. "You're just saying that because you want me to come home." He says emotionally.

"Yeah," Alexis is quick to admit. They each share a small chuckle to each other before Alexis is continuing the conversation. "So, where are you now?"

"I'm in Ireland, on the coast."

"Where on the coast?"

"I'm in a town called Doolin, renting a room above a small pub."

"Is it pretty?" Alexis asks, looking up the town on her laptop.

"Very," Rick says, looking out the small window of his room on one side of the bed. "I spent most of the day down at the coast just taking it all in. I'm actually thinking about staying here a while."

"Really?" Alexis asks on a chuckle. "You've been calling me every other day or so and you've been in a different country every time. What's so special about this place?"

Rick stands with the book in his hand, looking out onto the quaint streets of Doolin, seeing the coast in the distance. "I don't know. I just feel something telling me to stay."

Alexis takes it as a good sign. Maybe if he's staying in one place, he'll actually take some time and mend his heart instead of looking for places to go to next. "I love you, Daddy."

Rick smiles warmly, "I love you too, Sweetie."

Alexis hangs up with a heavy heart, keeping the phone in her hand for a moment before sitting it down to the couch beside her. She misses her dad, but she feels that telling him to come home before he's ready would bring back a person that isn't her dad. It's clear he doesn't want to work at the precinct anymore since he's not vying for Beckett's heart anymore. She wants him back the way he was before.

Alexis shakes her head, ridding herself of this train of thought before she gets lost and grabs the end of her textbook to get back to work, but is stopped by a knock on the door. With a sigh, she gets up off the couch and goes to the door. When she pulls it open, she is taken aback by the sight of an older man in a tan trench coat, white slicked back hair, his eyes narrowed slightly when he sees a teenage girl answered the door.

"Can I help you?" Alexis asks after a moment of pause.

The man is silent for a moment before his eyes go from Alexis to the loft, searching the home behind her. "I'm looking for a Richard Castle, I was told he lives here."

Her spine hardens and her stomach knots slightly in fear. She grabs the doorknob and pulls the door into her side, hiding half of her body behind it ready to slam in the man's face. "He's my dad, but he's out of town."

"I've been trying to call him the past several days, but I haven't gotten through."

"Yeah, he's just..." she chooses her words carefully, not caring if the man knows she's lying or not, "really busy, is all."

"Is there any way I could get in touch with him? It's very important."

Alexis shakes her head, "I'm sorry, I haven't heard from him."

The man in the hallway looks down to the floor and nods to himself. "Okay then."

The man is mysterious, brooding. But her dad's writing career doesn't bring men like that around. There's only one line of work he's in that brings men like that around. "Is this about Detective Beckett?" She calls after the man as he passes the neighbors door.

The man stops and turns back around, his hands still tucked into the pockets of his trench coat, and she can tell that he's thinking of a response. "It's just... very important that I speak with your father."

Alexis breathes a hard breath that does nothing to squelch the anxiousness knotting her stomach. "I can give you a number."

* * *

Kate's eyes peel open to the dim flicker of the TV in front of her. The takes a long breath in and sees the TV has been muted and the closed captions are rolling at the bottom of the screen, with the TV still turned to the classical movies station. With a moan at her aching back, she pulls the light afghan off of her body and grabs her phone sitting on the table next to the couch.

She thought he'd leave a text. '_Had to run back to the hospital to cover a shift. Leftovers are in the fridge'._

The nods to herself and decides not to respond and locks her phone, grabbing the TV remote when she sets her phone back down and turns the TV off. She stands up quickly, glad she's almost fully recovered. She wasn't due back at the precinct for another three weeks, but she's going a bit stir crazy. And Josh wasn't any help. They spent most of his visit bickering over why she likes Forbidden Planet that was playing on TV. He thought it was corny and stupid, but she had to push back on him. At least she shut him up when she mentioned that at least Castle had an open mind about it when she took him to see it the first time.

At least Castle enjoyed watching the movie.

She smiles at the memory of her taking Castle to see it the first time as she searches for Sherlock in the folds of the afghan on the couch. But her brow pinches with a twinge of worry when she doesn't find him. She had him tucked into her side between her leg and the arm of the couch when she was watching the movie, she remembers clearly. She didn't want to have him between her and Josh, just in case Josh decided to press Sherlock's button and give Josh another reason to start a fight with her.

But as Castle told her, you say you're going to water them, you never do, flowers wilt and die, and she had to throw the ones that Josh gave her away.

On a hard breath, she turns and moves into the kitchen, where the early morning dew is casting a fog through the woods and the sun is just peaking over the trees. Her eyes search the kitchen with a haste, but doesn't find him, then she goes to the deck and searches the chairs outside from her place leaning out the sliding glass door, but still doesn't find him.

"What the hell..." she mutters to herself as she pulls the door shut and goes back to search the couch again.

But she misses a step mid-stride when she finds him propped up on a chair in the back corner, behind the table in the kitchen. Josh must've found it on the couch when he put the blanket over her. It's probably somewhat her fault for not letting him know how much this thing means to her. When she reaches over the table and grabs his arm, she decides to shake away the thoughts of just why this bear means this much to her by dealing with the slight pull in her scars without her medication.

"I'm surprised I didn't find you in the trash." She chuckles to the bear hanging from her hand as she goes back to the living room.

Once she's in the hallway, a knock on the door startles her.

Someone at the door this early... when no one else is supposed to know she's up here.

Her heart hardens and looks to the closet by the front door. She strides over to the entertainment center and puts Sherlock down, propped up against the TV facing the front door and goes for the door just as another Beethoven's fifth knock sounds through the house. "Who is it?" She hollers.

"Detective Beckett, I need to speak with you."

She doesn't recognize the voice, nor the face when she looks through the peephole. This is it. A part of her has been waiting for them to come. She reaches over and pulls open the closet door at the same time she's unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the door open, the screen door still separating them. The man is in a long tan trench coat, his hands tucked into the pockets, his white hair slicked back and his face aged.

"Who are you?" Her voice warns him.

The man is slow to start, his eyes narrowed as he peers at her through the screen. "I'm a friend of Roy Montgomery's."

Her heart squeezes at the mention of her former captain. It's a world she left behind to recover. Another world looming at her from the darkness of her memories, just waiting for the day when she thinks she's strong enough to deal with them.

"And there's a matter I need to speak to you about." He continues after seeing she's not going to respond. "May I come in?"

Shoring up her armor, she gives him a small nod and clicks the handle on the screen door and pushes it open, letting him in and steps off to the side. The man steps inside the cabin and hears the door close behind him. He takes a few steps inside before he hears the unmistakable sound of the forend of a shotgun being pumped behind him.

Kate holds her dad's shotgun to the man's back, eyes boring into him stoically. A moment after the man freezes, he slowly pulls his hands out of his pockets. "I assure you, Detective Beckett." The man says as he slowly turns around with his hands up in the air. "You won't be needing that."

"Like hell I won't be." She tells him in a low, harsh voice, pointing the barrel straight at the man's face. "I've been waiting for you people to come after me for two months now, and now I'm going to send what's left of you back to whoever sent you."

"Detective Beckett, I'm the reason they haven't come after you yet." The man says calmly and starts to put his hands down.

But Kate shoves the shotgun forward. "Keep your hands up!"

The man jumps slightly and puts his hands back up.

"Now what the hell are you talking about?"

"As I said before... I'm a friend of Roy's. Before his death, Roy sent me a package." Kate's mind is clouded, not wanting to think about the other secrets her mentor held from her. She always held him up to be the perfect example of what a cop is supposed to be, unable to do wrong. Having this man here, if what he says is true, is just a reminder that her entire career might as well have been based on a lie. "The package had information that Roy had gathered on the person behind everything."

"If you don't start explaining why you're here in the next five seconds-"

"Roy was using that information to protect you, Detective." The man says in a raised voice. "And he left me instructions to do the same."

"What..." she starts, the shotgun becoming heavy in her hands. "What do you mean? What instructions?"

"Roy left me instructions when he sent me the package, among those being that I keep the information in that package safe, and in turn, you. I've managed to cut a deal with the people behind everything. They leave you alone so long as the information stays buried."

"You have a file on the person who killed my mother?" She asks, her mind clouded and her heart feeling dark.

"That's correct, Detective."

"Then tell me who killed my mother." She warns, leaning the barrel forward.

But the man seems unwavering. "Detective Beckett, there is far more at stake here than just your mother's murder, more lives at stake here than just your's. This goes deeper than you could imagine."

"I can imagine quite a bit." She says through grinding teeth and burning eyes.

The man sighs a bit and looks away from her for a moment. "Detective, to be frank, you weren't even supposed to know this much."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" She demands more answers through her clenched jaw.

"Roy left me explicit instructions to only talk to your partner, Richard Castle."

At the mention of his name, the darkness filling her heart and clouding her mind vanishes and all she can think of his him. "Castle?" The man nods, and there's a fire inside her hotter than when he mentioned her mother. "What have you done with him?" She spits.

"I've been trying to contact him for over a week, but your partner seems to fled the country. No one seems to know where he is, so... I'm forced to come to you directly with the terms of the deal."

"Terms? What... what terms?"

"I have the information and it stays buried so long as they leave you alone. But they had a condition... being that you stop your investigation into your mother's murder. And that's where your partner was supposed to come in. So I'm telling you instead, Detective."

The cloudiness in her mind is starting to return as her finger wants to move from above the trigger well to rest onto the trigger itself. "You want me to just walk away from the people that killed my mother? That killed Montgomery and almost killed me?" The man stares her down with his hands still meagerly in the air. "You want me to just walk away from the most important thing in my life? You want me to just let them walk free after everything they've done?"

"Detective Beckett, your captain, my friend," the man nods at her, "gave his life to get me this information so he could protect you. Is this how you want to remember him?"

"Don't try emotional blackmail on me right now, okay?" She hisses with burning eyes. "I'm really not in the mood."

"Detective Beckett, you have a simple choice here. If you keep investigating, the deal is broken and I can't protect you anymore. So it's the case or your life."

"That case _is _my life!"

Her answer comes with a brute force of unintended honesty that calls everything inside of her into question. For a moment, she's pulled out of herself as her eyes drift away from the man in front of her. That case, that investigation is her entire life. And after a moment of her cold, watery eyes floating aimlessly around the floor, they end up on Sherlock, who's still propped up against the TV in the living room, looking over at her. She can hear his voice in her ears now, feel his gaze on her, telling her something that only he could.

_So what happens when you close it?_

If her entire life, even her relationship, is built around her being able to investigate that case, how much more of her life, of her years, is she going to put into it before she closes it? If she builds her life around that case, goes back to work just to investigate that case, stays in relationships just to invest more of herself into that case, what happens if the day comes when she actually solves it?

_This isn't about your mother's murder anymore. _She hears in her heart and looks back up to Sherlock. _This is about you needing a place to hide. _

"Do we have a deal, Detective?"

The man's gruff voice breaks her out of her whirlwind of thoughts and she realizes that she let the shotgun fall till it's pointed at the floor. "Leave." She says in a small voice, letting the shotgun fall into one hand, holding it by the grip.

"I need an answer."

"Yes, just... just go."

Without another word, the man steps around her as she slowly drags her feet into the living room, hearing the front door close behind her. In a trance, her eyes staring at the bear propped up against the TV, she sets the shotgun down onto the coffee table with a dangerous clatter of the wooden stock and the metal barrel, and grabs the bear in her hands.

She's spent so long on that case, invested so much of herself into something just so she could close it. She's sacrificed her own relationships, her own happiness, just for... for what? The case? Maybe he was more right that she wants to admit. Maybe she's made this case so much a defining part of her that she's scared to find out who she is without it. How much time is she willing to sink into this case? How many more years will she expect the people around her to wait until it's closed with the excuse that only then can she be happy?

Her ragged breath is dragged out of her as she falls down to the coffee table with Sherlock held carefully in her hands.

She isn't ready to admit this to anyone but this stupid bear, but she catered her life around that case. Only in a relationship like she has with Josh can she devote herself to the case... or her job. With Josh, she can focus on her career and her case. She can spend the day focused on the case moving up the ranks.

_And when you come home?_ The bear seems to ask her. _There are sixteen more hours in the day, Kate. _

She sighs emotionally and looks to the ceiling, letting the bear fall to her lap. Her heart is trying to tell her something. But she knows that listening to that part of herself isn't a skill she's honed. She hasn't listened to that part of herself since she was nineteen. Right now, she has to figure out something that she thought she had figured out already. She thought she had it lined up, what she wanted her life to be. But maybe Castle was right. Maybe it was all just a veil pulled over her eyes to keep her from admitting that she has no clue who she really is without that case... or without her job.

She's due back in the precinct in a few weeks. She could manage going back sooner.

She could chalk it all up to her just going stir crazy, the thought that she just needs to get back into the swing of things and everything will work itself out. But until then, she'll keep asking herself.

Her eyes return to the bear still in her hands, "What do I want my life to be?"

Hoping for something different, Castle's voice answers her. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?"_

* * *

_A/N: A lot longer of a chapter than I thought it would be. Let me know what you think. Next few chapters will be good ones. ;)_


	7. Chapter 7

It's around three o'clock when Rick is sitting in a corner of the pub he's staying at. He charmed the owner into letting him rent out one of the old rooms upstairs. He would have been long gone by now, but something about this place is keeping him here. It's probably the view of the coast. He's spent the last couple of days just walking up and down, reflecting. On what, he's never sure. Maybe it's just easy to lose himself here, forget everything else.

He turns the page of his book and continues to read. He's reread this book several times over the past couple of days; speed reading is a very handy skill to have. But he wants to take his time now, soak up everything in it.

_In application of your principles, you must be like a pancartiast, not like a gladiator; for the gladiator lets fall the sword which he uses and is killed; but the other always has his hand, and needs to do nothing else than use it. _

He stops and rereads that sentence again before he feels his phone vibrate in the pocket of his jeans. His brow furrows slightly and his eyes flick over to the clock above the bar, seeing that Alexis' should be in school by now. Something must be wrong, he thinks as he quickly digs out the phone. No one but Alexis has this number. He looks at the screen and sees it's an unknown number. He pushes a chuckle and shakes his head, shoving the phone back into his pocket and lets it ring silently a few more times before it stops.

He continues reading on when he feels the phone vibrate a single time in his pocket, indicating that whoever called him left a voicemail. He stops midsentence and grinds his teeth. He didn't want to be bothered. Maybe it's just a telemarketer who somehow got ahold of his number. He digs his phone back out and unlocks his phone, going through the motions of calling his inbox and puts the phone to his ear.

"Mr. Castle," an older male voice says to him, "I've been trying to reach you for some time. There's an urgent matter I need to speak to you about. I can't say anymore but I'm a friend of Roy Montgomery's, and it in-"

He quickly pulls the phone from his ear, a large, uncomfortable air sitting in his throat, and locks the screen. Without another thought on the matter, he shoves his phone back into his pocket, closes his book, drinks the rest of the water left in his glass, and stands up with a small adjust of his glasses over his eyes.

"Going for a walk, Alex?" Stacey calls from behind the bar.

He sends Stacey, the owner's eldest daughter, a warm smirk as he makes for the door. "Don't want you getting tired of me spending all day in here." He charms.

Stacey chuckles, "You're more than welcome to." Her accent makes his smirk a little less heavy. It's regional.

He shrugs, "Then let's just say I don't want you getting tired of my face."

"Could never get tired of that face, Alex."

He let's her compliment go through his ears as he pulls the door open and steps outside into the cool humid air. On a hard sigh, he starts the trek down to the coast, looking over his shoulder after he's passed a few buildings. He's felt watched all day. Once he sees that there's practically no one out on the sidewalk, he looks back ahead and keeps walking toward the coast line. After the familiar walk through the grass and over the hills, he arrives at a bench he sat down on his first time through here, overlooking a sharp cliff down to the ocean, with a never ending view of the lasting sea out onto the world.

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and sees his glasses start to fog.

He didn't want to be pulled back into the dark, evil world that was Roy's past. All linked together somehow with just more evil and wrong-doing, every new stone for them to overturn just reveals more darkness, more voids where a person's heart should be. A part of him is tired of that world. That's why he likes it here. It's simple, the people are nice, it's open, pretty. There's a goodness to a place like this that New York lacks. Him and Gina always talked about moving out of the city to a town like this after Alexis was in College.

Then there's another part of him that just thinks about her; admires her for being able to stare down that world, uncover more and more darkness and come out on the other side unscathed, with her principles intact. She may lose sight of the demons and devils around her every once in a while, putting herself in more jeopardy than she realizes, but that's usually where he came in. In some lunatic way, maybe he actually served some kind of purpose in her life. The court jester maybe, the fool.

On a hard sigh, he reaches into his jacket and pulls her picture out of the inside pocket, deciding to get lost in what little of her beauty that camera could manage to take in. She deserves a good life, and maybe Josh can give that to her, without him constantly pushing her to do the impossible just because he likes watching her do it.

"I was wondering how beautiful she was." A gruff, but familiar, voice says behind him.

Castle is startled as his once raptured attention is ripped back to reality and he looks over his shoulder to see an eerily familiar man standing behind him just a few feet. With the man's dark green cargo jacket, his aged but alpha-esque features, it only takes a moment of staring at him before he recognizes him.

"You," he starts weakly, "you were in Rome."

The man takes a step and looks down to the grass. "I don't know if it's just hard-wired into the male biology," he starts as he comes around to the front of the bench, "to lose our better senses with incredibly beautiful women," he says and sits down next to him, "or if it's just in our genes."

Castle moves himself an inch or two away from the man that seemingly invited himself to sit down next to him with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. "A-are you following me?" He asks, his mind crashing against itself harder than the tide at the bottom of the cliff face in front of him.

The man just looks over at him. "Call me Jack." He doesn't answer the accusation and simply extends his right hand.

Shaking his head slightly, double-taking, Castle is weakly shaking the man's hand, remembering himself before he replies. "Alex."

The man stares at him for a moment before his features left into a light smile. "You can lose the Clark Kent disguise, kid." He says as he's taking his hand back. Rick is startled for a moment, frozen. The man reaches up and draws an invisible circle around his eye. "The glasses only work in the comic books."

Rick's breath is caught in his throat, the humid salty air stuck in his lungs. After gathering what he can of himself, he pulls the square-rimmed glasses from his eyes. "You know who I am?"

The man reaches into his jacket, into a large pocket on the side, and pulls out a hard-covered book. "The world is too small for someone like a famous novelist to go totally unnoticed, I'm afraid."

The book the man shows him is Rising Heat, back cover face up where his bio and picture are. With everything he's been going through, he almost completely forgot about his new book release. There's a twinge of dread that he feels in his gut, hoping the man won't for some reason show him the dedication page. Dedicating the book to Roy will bring back emotions he doesn't want to deal with.

"So, you want to reintroduce yourself?" Jack says, setting the book down between them.

With another long sigh, Rick admits to his real identity. "Rick."

Jack nods, "Short for Richard?" He asks, almost rhetorically. Rick nods, along with Jack before he's continuing. "I'll call you Richard then. It's a stronger sounding name."

"I-I'm sorry," Rick shakes his head with a disbelieving chuckle, "but who are you and why have you been following me?" He asks, his fear gathering in his stomach together with his anger.

"I just want to talk, Richard."

Something about this man feels familiar, almost on a spiritual level. Like they have some cosmic bond that he's picking up on almost. It feels... almost frightening. "Look, Jack, I don't know who you are," Rick starts and stands up, "but I'm not exactly looking for a father figure right now."

Rick starts around the bench to leave the man behind before he's speaking again. "What about a father instead?"

Rick almost laughs at the man's attempt. "Just because you've read my Wikipedia page, don't think you can play me that easily."

His patience lost, Rick makes it around the other side of the bench where Jack still sits and gets two steps away before his voice is stopping him again. "Monkey Bunkey."

Rick loses his balance in the slippery glass as the words hit his mind. His heart feels pulled apart inside of his chest, his lungs feel drained, his legs feel weak. With a struggle to regain his footing, he is still storming back around the bench at the man who's still sitting down with his hands calmly in his lap, his eyes following him. "What did you just say?"

The man waves his hand in a circular motion. "Alexis, she had a stuffed monkey growing up, didn't she? Carried it to school in her backpack... that was its name, wasn't it?"

"Wha..." Rick tries, but fails at finding words. "Y-you..." he tries again and feels his spine swell with tangled nerves.

Jack presses on his knees and stands up. "You obviously have questions."

"Yeah, like just who the hell are you?" He rushes, not giving him a chance to answer before finding the rest of the questions swirling around his mind. "How do you know about Monkey Bunkey? How do you even know about Alexis?! What are you doing following me? What-what are you _spying _on me or something?"

The man's answer comes as calm as his demeanor presents him to be. "Well, it is what I do for a living."

Rick's eyes grow wide and he leans forward as his jaw feels slack. "Come again?"

"Did, I should say. I'm retired now."

What's left of Rick's breath to catch is pulled from him. The man standing with his hands hanging out of his jacket pockets just threw his entire life upside-down. "Do you really expect me to believe that my father is a sp... a _spy_?"

Jack takes a pause, seemingly deciding on his approach. "Have you ever heard of a black budget, Richard?"

"Yes, they're budgets given to the military, no questions asked, for classified..." his eyes soon meander back to Jack, who just lifts his brow.

"I'm one of the things part of that money goes to."

Rick feels an incredulous smile flash across his face. "You mean to tell me that my mother slept with the _one guy _in the bar who just so happened to be a military-paid black budget _spy!?" _

"I told you before it's in our genes to lose our better senses to incredibly beautiful women, Richard."

Breathing a breathy chuckle, Rick shakes his head and paces away from him. "All this time, I just figured she had a one night stand with some drunken vagrant and didn't want to own up to it but instead she slept with a spy, _a spy!" _

"Richard, I'm just an old man who scored high enough on the right tests, didn't have any parents, and is too old to be of any use now. Only reason you don't know about me is because I have too many state secrets to go home and too many enemies to stay in one spot for more than a week or so at a time."

Something about this man, it's... it's like talking to himself. The way he carries himself, the words he uses and the tone he says them in, how quick he is with his wit, even if this man isn't his father and he's just a liar, he's far too much like himself to be ignored.

After a moment, Jack continues. "And as far as the US government's concerned, I'm committing an act of treason even letting you know I exist."

"So... so why are you here then? Why now?"

His face and his expression suddenly shift into seriousness as he slowly starts to pace toward Rick. "Because you've dedicated two of your last three books to someone with the initials KB. Because you've spent the past three years as a civilian consultant to a Detective Kate Beckett of the Twelfth Precinct, NYPD. And because three months ago," Jack, now just a few feet away, reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a newspaper, "that detective was shot by a sniper at a funeral for her fallen captain."

Rick looks at the newspaper, an article where her picture is above the article, in her dress uniform. And in a second, his conscience is thrown back to that hot, humid day that he's no closer to coming to terms with than he was the day he left.

"She was listed in critical condition for three weeks. And a few days later, your passport was used at JFK international airport en route to Singapore."

Jack shakes the newspaper in front of him and stuffs it back into his inside pocket, making Rick's eyes whip back up to Jack's piecing gaze.

"It's not watching your partner get shot that made you come this far away from home, Richard. Something happened that day in the hospital... something that made you doubt everything." Jack, matching Rick's usual rapier wit, or maybe even outmatching it, as torn the connection between his heart and his mind, making him stone silent and weak. "Because ever since then, you've been galavanting all over the north eastern hemisphere and something tells me you're no closer to going home than the day you boarded that first plane."

Rick feels small, his usual shored-up emotional armor feels ripped from his chest. "And why should I listen to anything you have to say?" He asks, a last ditch effort to give himself some leverage in the conversation.

"Richard, if you really had no intention of listening to me..." he holds his eyes for a moment, making sure he hears him, "you would have walked away by now."

Without another word, Jack sits back down where he was on the bench and silently waits for Rick to join him. And after not much thought, least of all the outcome, he sits down, pulling her picture out of his jacket pocket and handing it to him.

"What's her name?"

"You know her name." He retorts.

"I need you to say it, Richard."

With a hard sigh, his eyes drift shut as her presence fills his heart. "Kate... her name is Kate. And after she was shot, I went to go see her at-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, kid," Jack chuckles, handing the picture back to him, "you're a novelist, you should know better." Jack instructs. "Start from the beginning."

Rick breathes deeply and leans back. "I had just released my last Derrick Storm novel and I was at the release party."

* * *

A deep breath in, and she knows she doesn't feel ready.

She hasn't looked at this ring since before she was shot. Her dad packed what little she needed at her apartment and they had left straight for the cabin from the hospital, but he didn't pack her ring. He didn't think to look in the box where she keeps it. This ring used to drive her, used to motivate her. She used to swear to herself that she would wear it every single day until her mother's killer was behind bars or dead. But now, with its silver band and dark stone, it just feels heavy. Spinning on its chain, hanging from her hand, somehow it feels like an accusation. A cross to bear.

It used to remind her that she had a job to do, but now all it's doing is asking her a question that she's returning to work early in the hopes of drowning out. What does she really want her life to be?

She wasn't due to return yet. But she couldn't stand being at the cabin anymore. She's back on her feet. She just wants to get back into the swing of things, back to a normal routine.

And she can do it without her partner. Whether she has a choice or not, she can do it. A small part of the war going on inside of her is anger, furious at him for leaving despite what the circumstances where. They were partners and he said that he'd call her... that he'd be here, always.

The bell on the elevator dings above her, signaling her to put the chain back around her neck and hide the ring under her loose-fitting grey turtle neck. She swallows what nerves she can and steps out, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. She's just a few steps out into the precinct, her eyes down to the floor, before a soft applause starts to grow from the bullpen.

She looks up and sees all the eyes of the floor on her, with warm smiles and friendly faces, all greeting her return back to the Twefths murder division with a warm welcome. Kate feels a smile shine on her face as the first of the uniforms pass her by, shaking her hand. Maybe this is the feeling she needed. This place was her home before all this happened. This is where she belonged.

After a long few seconds, the applause stops and people go about their usual business. She makes it around the barrier and sees her friends grinning at her with their arms crossed, leaned back against Esposito's desk.

"I thought you weren't due back for another two weeks, Beckett." Ryan says, narrowing his eyes at her.

"You didn't have to cut your leave short just for us, you know." Espo cracks back.

"I know you missed us and everything, but come on." Ryan cracks after.

"Yeah," Beckett chuckles and moves around them, setting her bag down onto her chair, with her desk exactly the way she left it sans the massive pile of paperwork sitting on the edge of it now. "Well, two months in my dad's cabin, I got tired of listening to the crickets." She says and goes for her badge sitting on the edge of her desk next to her keyboard, clipping it on her waist band.

"Either way," Ryan starts on a sigh, "I'm sure you know then. We haven't gotten anywhere on your shooting."

Kate looks over her shoulder over to Ryan. "No, I uh..." She hesitates to get into it as she opens her bag, "I didn't know."

"Really?" Esposito asks, coming up behind Ryan. "I thought you've been talking to Castle, seeing as _we_ haven't heard from the guy."

"Yeah, we could barely get him to leave the precinct while you were listed critical. Last time we heard from him was the day before you woke up."

"We figured since he had his partner back, he was working the case with you."

Kate's heart is torn between intense anger at her partner for leaving and that bear that now sits between the pillows of her couch back at her apartment. "Actually," she tries casually, "I haven't heard from him." She says, busying herself with rearranging the work on her desk. "I think he said something about just needing time err... something."

"Hmm," Ryan hums. "You sure he's okay?"

"Yeah, I mean," Espo starts right behind Ryan, "we were all there but Castle saw the lights go out."

"Guys!" She stops them, hoping to feign her way into getting them to think this isn't bothering her as much as it is by smiling. "Castle's been through worse and has come out just fine, all right? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get your big brother back eventually."

They both smirk. "Welcome back, boss." They each chirp one after the other and move back to their desks.

She smiles, somewhat honestly after having to deal with the thought of her partner being thrown in her face. "Detective Beckett?" A female voice hollers across the bullpen. Kate looks up with her hands still dug in her bag on her chair and sees a woman in a pressed suit jacket and skirt, a pair of glasses hanging from a chain on her neck, leaning out of Montgomery's office. "A word in my office, please?"

Must be the new captain, she rolls her shoulders back and steps around her desk and walks through the vacant spot next to her desk, heading quickly into the captain's office. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

"If my mother shows up," the captain says, standing up behind her desk that's just as filled with paperwork as her own, "you can call her ma'am. Until then, however, you can call me 'sir' or 'Captain'." The captain looks up over her desk at her with a professional smile. "Captain Victoria Gates." She extends her hand.

Uncomfortably, Kate shakes it with a feigned smile. This isn't her captain. She seems the type to command authority, not respect. Leads through fear, not leadership. This isn't her office, this isn't her boss. "Nice to meet you, Sir."

"You too, Detective Beckett. I've been looking forward to meeting you." She smiles, pointing the end of her glasses in her direction. "Youngest ever to make detective. You beat me by six weeks."

Kate smiles, feeling a sudden hollowness in the victory she's being boasted for. It could be because she's been complimented on it so many times.

"You weren't due back for another two weeks, Detective."

"Just needed to get back in the swing of things is all, Sir." Kate excuses.

"Well, fill these out," Gates says and hands her yet another stack of papers, "standard psyche eval and you'll get your firearm back. In the mean time, you might want to get to work. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."

Whatever feeling she was hoping to get back by returning is a lost hope. She knows that and resigns to it as she makes for the door with the stack of papers in her hand and turns back to her desk.

But when her eyes catch her desk again, she notices something is off. "Hey, guys?" She asks the boys, looking over to their desks, "Where's the..." She trails off when they find their desks empty.

She won't be able to even get started until she finds it. She knows that. She sets the papers down and starts to move her eyes slowly around the bullpen. She'd know it anywhere. She's memorized it. When she doesn't find it in the bullpen, she checks the conference room, the break room, kitchen, even going to the supply closet and the locker room down the hall without success. She goes through a few more spaces, looking over everything again, before she hops on the elevator.

She has to find it. It has to be around here. She'd know it anywhere.

Realizing it's not on this floor, she boards the elevator and moves up a floor to narcotics. No one seems to pay much attention to her as she moves around their own bullpen, but as she passes their breakroom, she spots it.

And she's overcome by anger at where she finds it. Her fists clench, nails digging deeply into her palms, her throat already flexing with a yell as she storms into the three detectives who are joking around.

* * *

Another few minutes later, Kate is storming back out of the elevator, and she can already feel Ryan and Esposito's eyes on her.

Her heart gripped, locked just below her throat, her scars giving her a dull ache, her breath shallow and unsatisfying, she marches through the bullpen.

"Hey, yo," Epso tries quickly, trying to catch her before she gets too far, "what's going on?"

"Yeah, we just heard that you-"

"Not now." She keeps marching away from them, leaving the concerns hanging in the air as she turns cold-eyed into the captain's office, where she's already on her feet and furious.

"_Detective Beckett, _I _demand_ an explanation as to why-"

"I quit."

In one swift motion, Kate pulls her badge off her waistband and tosses it down to her desk, her eyes never wavering away from Gates. Gates harsh lecturing is stopped on a dime, the only sound in the office being the clatter of her badge still rocking back and forth against the wood.

"Excuse me?" Gates asks, eyes narrowing as she leans on her knuckles.

"I quit, Sir."

"Detective Beckett, I want you to think _very carefully _about what-"

"I don't need to think about it, Sir. I've made up my mind." She says simply and starts backward out of the office. "I quit."

The boys are silent as she strides out of the captain's office, grabs her still packed shoulder bag as she passes it, and heads out... for the last time.

* * *

_A/N: If you didn't get it, just check the reviews. I'm sure someone will get it eventually. C;_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Would have tacked this onto the bottom as usual, but I want to let you know what this chapter actually is before you read it (for those of you who read the author's notes). There are certain dialogue exchanges and scenes between Castle and Beckett that I get in my head and they get stuck there. Most of my stories were written simply to incorporate scenes that I couldn't get out of my head. For instance, my last story was pretty much written for chapter 12(?) where they're on the roof._

_This story was pretty much started and catered to this one chapter. I've had this chapter in my head for a really long time, and I pretty much developed this story line thus far just so I could write this one chapter._

_So, enjoy. C:_

* * *

Kate drags herself through her door, pulling out her keys from the knob with a lethargic yank and letting her bag fall down just ahead of the entrance to her apartment. With a few tired steps inside, she closes the door behind her. The door clicks shut and she flicks the deadbolt over, leaning her weight back against the door for a moment as she tries to gather herself. The ambient noise of the city outside seems so loud. She can't feel her chest, she feels... hollowed out. The past week, she's been asking herself what she wanted her life to be, what she wanted out of it, where she wanted to end up going. But now... she feels lost.

She can't go back to the precinct. After everything that happened, the changes that she felt seemingly the moment she walked in... it's as if they never wanted him there to begin with.

Kate lets out a dry, ragged breath and pushes off her door jam and puts her foot up to peel her heeled boots off, letting them fall down to the floor. She kicks them against the wall and moves through her apartment in a daze. She sniffs in a short breath as she stops near her coffee table. Her eyes soon fall on Sherlock, still sitting cozily in between her Union Jack pillow and a dark orange one. Looking at him, a source of comfort, she feels a smile, albeit a sad on, flash onto her face. At least she'll always have Sherlock.

She hopes. His speaker is starting to crackle and fizzle.

Kate shakes her head hard enough to make herself dizzy, hoping the hard motion will jolt some pieces of her brain into giving her some semblance of an idea as to what to do now. She just walked out of a job that she'd never imagined having to walk out of, just ended something that she lived her entire life by. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe that's why she exploded the way she did at those narcotics detectives, those stupid potato-headed goons. The precinct, her job, her badge, changed after she was shot. And if she continued on like everything was fine, she'd have to change with it.

This recovery has already given her an identity crisis to deal with.

Still standing cemented to the same spot near the coffee table, she looks over into the darkened end of her apartment next to the kitchen, over to the closed shutters where the last intact pillar of her life sits that's still here to hold her up... or pin her underneath it, she feels more the latter after this. Kate pads through her apartment, flicks open the latch on the shutters and swings them apart. Sadly, it's just as she remembers it.

All the note cards and pictures, all the strings tied and names marked all lead to the same place, nowhere.

Kate swallows thickly passed a bundle of nerves and makes a sharp turn over to her desk, grabbing her red sharpie out of the cup next to her monitor and a notecard off the stack sitting on the edge. _John Doe, friend of Montgomery, _she writes down on the card and grabs a thumbtack. She pins the new notecard at the very bottom of the left shutter and then grabs a new one; _what's in the file? _She pins the new notecard right next to it.

It was a chore, nothing more. A way to busy her limbs and expel energy she doesn't have.

She can't stare at this for too long because she knows that if she does, it won't be to think about where she can get to on the case... it will be to ponder just how much time each one of these notecards represents, how many months or years each one of these names and questions represent in her life, how much pain, anguish, heartbreak is attached to each one... and how many more cards will have to go up on this board before they all lead somewhere tangible, and just how much of her life those cards will represent.

A soft, yet forceful knock suddenly sounds at her door. "Kate?"

She recognizes the voice instantly as the concerned voice of Lanie. Her heart feels heavy, but she's missed her. The last time she saw her was the day she woke up, about an hour or so after the last time she saw her partner. Lanie mentioned wanting to visit her during her recovery, but nothing ever came of it. She would have liked to see her.

"Come on, girl, I know you're in there." Lanie calls again through the door.

"Come in." She calls back through her apartment, tearing her eyes away from her shutters.

She hears the knob being tried, "Kate, the door-" the knob is jiggled hard again, "is _locked!" _

Kate breathes a heavy breath and moves through her apartment, making a quick detour of just two large steps and reaches over to her couch, pulling Sherlock with her by the arm. With a few more steps, Kate flicks the deadbolt back over and twists the knob to crack the door open where Lanie quickly forces herself through the small opening.

"Oh, girl, I am-" Lanie stops, a storage box under one arm and wrapping the other arm around her friend's shoulders, "so sorry."

Kate just stays silent and hugs her friend, a small part of her enjoying the friendly affection while she can get it.

Lanie steps back with a worried arch in her brow and a friendly light shining in her eyes. "Javi told me what happened this morning and I got here as soon as I could." She quickly explains and closes the door behind her, whipping back around once it's closed. "Are you okay?"

"I just walked out on my entire career, Lanie. You really want to ask me that question?" She shrugs, glad she chose a loose-fitting shirt for her first day back.

Lanie's brow knits a bit. "Well," she starts, looking away from her, "Javi gave me some things you left back at the precinct."

Kate takes the box and the first thing she spots is her mother's elephants. She smiles to herself, finally seeing them again. They sat on her desk, always a constant reminder of just how important her family, how important she and her dad were to her. Kate nods, giving Lanie a quick glance. "Thanks, Lane."

Kate slowly moves into her living room, clutching the box with her forearm and Sherlock's forearm with the other. Kate sets the box down onto the floor and pulls the elephants out, setting them in the center of her coffee table. They look good there.

"So," Lanie begins, sounding like she's making her way through Kate's apartment behind her, "what happened, Beckett? I thought you'd be eager to get back on the job after this long."

"Lanie, I-I..." she sighs, pacing in the opposite direction of the box on the floor, Sherlock still hanging from her hand and seemingly unnoticed by her friend, "I don't know, I just know that I don't belong there anymore."

"Well, what's this whole thing about you going off on some narcotics detectives then? I heard you threatened to shoot a guy." Lanie throws out her arms, her brow still twinged with concern.

"I did not _threaten." _She defends herself. "I _told _him that I would plaster his brains all over that breakroom if he didn't get his dirty, oversized feet off of-" she cuts herself off, her chest already tightening with the same anger that she let loose just this morning. It's probably pointless to explain to anyone but herself... or maybe the bear, if she decides to get that pathetic as to talking to him thinking he could offer sound advice.

"Kate," Lanie starts, letting out a breath and shaking her head, "is this about your shooting? Did you recover okay?"

"I recovered just fine, Lanie." She answers stubbornly and turns around, taking a seat on the arm of her couch, bringing Sherlock to rest on her thighs, hanging by the pads of her fingers. "I just know that I don't belong at the precinct anymore."

"Well, where's Castle? Didn't he come back with you?"

She didn't realize she'd have this much trouble hearing his name out loud. It sends a jolt of nerves up her spine, a twinge up the middle of her heart, an uncomfortable coil in her gut. She can prepare herself when she has to say it, but with everyone else... it's like it's being hurled at her. "No, I haven't heard from him." She laments, tossing Sherlock aside and down onto her couch. "It's just been me and Sherlock the past couple of months."

Lanie's brow quirks a bit as she watches Kate pick at the edge of her thumbnail. "Sherlock?"

Kate looks up for a moment, eyes Lanie's confused expression, and reaches back down, grabs his leg and tosses Sherlock over to her.

Lanie catches him by the head and turns him around. Lanie smiles as she moves his magnifying glass about. "Aww, he's so cute. Josh give you this?" Lanie asks.

Wordlessly, Kate pushes off the arm of her couch, takes a few steps forward, reaches up, and pinches Sherlock's hand. Castle's voice tugs at her heart as she moves through her apartment over to her shutters. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _His speaker in his stomach crackles slightly near the end.

She hears Lanie stifle a chuckle before following Kate into the other room. This bear has Castle written all over it now that she thinks about it. "He couldn't have recorded something more... I don't know, appropriate?"

Kate stops near her second couch, adjacent to her shutters. The memory of him sitting in the chair at the hospital, leaned off to one side, tongue stuck into his bottom lip with his fingers tapping against his chin flashes clearly in her head. "He accidentally recorded that in the store when he bought it and couldn't figure out how to record over it before he gave it to me."

Lanie chuckles again at that. Kate's soft smile as she looks down to the bear still in Lanie's hands goes unnoticed by her brain. It soon falls though when she turns away from them to face her shutters and hears Lanie set Sherlock down on the table.

"So, is this about Josh?" Lanie asks behind her, sitting down on the couch as Kate meanders over to her murder board. "Did something happen with him?"

"No, Lanie, Josh and I are fine." She answers plainly, crossing her arms in front of the shutters.

There's a small knot in her gut telling her that Lanie is intentionally beating around a bush for some reason. "Well, what about the case? Have you made any progress?"

Kate lets out a dark chuckle of self-deprecation and shakes her head. "Where do I have left to go, Lanie?" She asks, eyes roving over the notecards and pictures. "Everything here is," she shrugs her shoulders, waving her arms out before letting them fall down to her sides, "a dead end. I have... I have nothing to go on. I have no leads. I have no one to go to."

"Oh, Kate, what are you talking about?" Lanie asks incredulously.

"What am I talking about?!" Kate parrots back, looking over her shoulder with an emotional glare.

But Lanie is seemingly unfazed, still looking over to her friend with the same concerned gaze.

Kate looks back to her shutters and grabs a notecard near the top, ripping it from the thumbtack and showing it to Lanie. "Dick Coonan... is gone." She says, tossing the notecard away and goes for the next one. "Hal Lockwood? He's gone." She tosses the notecard, going for another one, not bothering to show them before tossing each one away as she names them. "John Raglan, Gary McAllister, Joe Pulgaty, are all gone."

Lanie watches painfully as Kate moves away from her shutters, hunched forward slightly and eyes staring hard into the floor as she paces.

"My shooter is gone. Montgomery" Kate says, voice shaking, "is gone. My mom... is _gone!" _She cries, finally turning to face Lanie with hot tears pooling in her eyes. "Even _Castle! _My own _partner! _The guy who said that he'd _always _be here for me- _abandoned _me. He's _gone! __Everyone... _is _gone, _Lanie!" Kate sobs and turns around, pressing her palm to her forehead.

"Well, what about Josh?"

"_I _don't _love _Josh, Lanie!" She emotionally exclaims, turning around and hunching toward Lanie with her tears finally falling off her lashes. "I only started seeing him because Castle was still with his _stupid _ex-wife!" She yells and tosses her hand out, spinning around and putting a hand on the back of her waist.

"Wait," Lanie starts, adjusting herself on the couch, confused, "I thought you said that you and Josh were giving it a real shot."

"Oh, Lanie," Kate sighs, slumping her shoulders, "I only said that because Castle and I had just been frozen to death sitting in each other's arms and I tried to tell him how I felt." She admits, coming around the table and letting her legs give out to fall back into the cushions. "I needed a reason to push him away." Kate falls into her couch and quickly leans forward, grabbing for Sherlock out of instinct and clutching him in her hands, pressing her nose and mouth to the soft fuzz on his stomach, large tears still sitting in her eyes as she starts off into space.

She feels Lanie's eyes on her, but doesn't have enough care to do anything about it. "I..." Lanie starts hesitantly, "think it's high time we stop pretending like we both don't know what this whole thing is really about."

Kate knows. She's always known. Her heart has been trying to break through to her for a long time. And now, she just can't bring herself to stifle its voice any longer. She takes in a shakey breath in her nose, through Sherlock's warm fuzz, letting her eyes drift shut at the feeling... the feeling of her partner's caring for her. That's why she can't let this thing go. This stupid little stuffed bear has brought her more comfort that her own relationship has this whole recovery.

Why is she even bothering with a relationship anymore?

"Kate," Lanie prods, "how long are you going to go on hiding from the truth?"

She just moves to bury her face deeper into Sherlock's fuzz.

"I mean," Lanie chuckles, "until about an hour ago, you used to ferret out the truth for a living, Kate, and you were damn good at it. But... when it comes to accepting it..."

The truth... her heart knows the truth. All those feelings and thoughts she's spent so much energy stomping out like a spark ready to set a dry forest ablaze.

"Stop _fooling_ yourself, Kate." Lanie softly urges her. "Because... I hate to be the one to tell you this," she says, her tone shifting, "but the only person that you _are _fooling... is you."

Her eyes slowly open, half-lidded. "You're right, Lanie."

Her thumb slowly starts to pet the inside of Sherlock's fuzz.

"If there's one thing this recovery has been trying to tell me, it's that I don't- have- _time... _to keep lying to myself. I have to start listening to my heart... accepting the truth."

"And... is the truth that you're crazy for Castle?" Lanie prods again.

"Lanie, I'm in love with him." The words seem to fill her heart, but empty it at the same time, giving her body a light feeling lifting off of her, a weight seeming to pull her up from a darkness she has been trapped in. "And the truth was never about getting myself to admit it, because Lanie, I've _known... _that I'm in love with him. I was just so god damn determined to push him away because I couldn't be this dependant on someone. But the truth is that what I was afraid of... what I was hiding from... it's already happened."

She feels Lanie's smile soften and she pulls her lips off of Sherlock and looks over to her.

"Lanie, we aren't even a _couple. _If I go this crazy now when he's gone, what's going to happen to me if we jump into it and he leaves?" The tears return, furious and hot. "Or if he's killed, or taken from me like my mom was?"

"But Kate, what if none of those things happen?"

Kate sniffles and lets the bear fall down to her lap as she leans back in her couch. "Doesn't really matter anyway. He's gone, he hasn't called me since the hospital, he didn't even say goodbye. I don't even know where he is, Lanie."

"Well, it's a good thing you used to be a detective then."

Kate's sorrow is betrayed by a small belt of laughter at Lanie's quick-witted joke. Kate nods to herself, "Josh is supposed to come over in a couple hours. I'll talk to him. And then I'll go find Castle."

* * *

"_How do I... wait, like, now? __Check one, is it... hello?" _

She just misses him so much. With Sherlock tucked safely under her arm, sitting on her couch against her leg as she sits curled up in the corner, she pets his fuzz with her thumb, losing herself in memory. It took a lot of digging, but she finally found one. She started to lose it a little bit when she thought that after three years of a partnership with him, that they didn't have a single picture of the two of them together. But she finally found one, tucked away in a box, showing the two of them and everyone else from the precinct at the bar of the Old Haunt the night Castle bought it.

Serendipity seemed to grace her for once since the two of them are standing next to each other, and she isn't even smiling at the camera, but up at him.

Another knock sounds in her apartment and her heart feels heavy.

But she has to be honest. She doesn't have time to keep lying to herself. And it all starts with being honest with everyone else. It will hurt, but they both deserve nothing less than the truth. "It's open." She calls over to the door, pressing Sherlock's hand for strength.

The door opens and Josh quickly steps inside, closing the door behind him with a smile. "Hey, you."

Kate doesn't answer him and just simply sits, listening to Sherlock's voice box. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _

She can see Josh's demeanor shift, but she doesn't tear her eyes away from the picture in her hand. "Is everything okay, Kate? I thought we were going to spend the night in."

"Josh, I have to be honest." She says in a low, emotionally drained voice. "And you're probably going to hate me for it."

"Kate," Josh nervously chuckles and shifts his feet, "what's going on? You look like you've been crying."

She takes a breath and forces every ounce of strength on listening to what's in her heart, what the truth is. "Josh, we were a mistake." She tells him and finally tears her eyes away from the picture.

Josh's brow is hard and straight, his eyes cold and far away. "W-what are you talking about, Kate?"

"I can't let this go on. It's not fair... to either of us. I have to accept the truth." She stares up at him from her place in the corner of her couch, seeing Josh stand dead still in her living room. "And the truth is I've had feelings for someone else for a while."

She can hear Josh's hard breath from here. "You mean him." She can't really decide if it's better or worse that he drew the right conclusion. But it's a waste of time deciding now. "You mean Castle."

She doesn't like the way his name sounds in Josh's voice. "Yes."

She watches as Josh's jaw clicks and his eyes twinge.

"I'm sorry, Josh, but I can't let you go on not knowing the truth. I don't want to lie to myself anymore. I'm in love with him, Josh. The whole reason I started seeing you was because he'd left for the summer with his ex-wife, and it hurt more than I wanted it to. And as long as we were in a relationship, I had a reason to deny my feelings for him."

"So," he strains, looking down to the floor, "you were what... using me? This whole time?"

"I... I didn't go into it thinking that. And I'm not saying our whole relationship was based on that, but... Josh, I can't hide from it anymore. We've both wasted too much time on this."

"What..." he tries, having a hard time looking up from the floor, but eventually manages it. "What could I do, Kate? If we could go back, what could I do differently?"

Kate softly shakes her head, "Nothing," She answers softly. "Because if we could go back, I would be with him." She knows it's not the answer he wanted, finding out there's nothing he could ever have done, that despite everything, he just wasn't Castle. "I'm sorry, Josh."

"But Kate, I..." he abruptly cuts himself off, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small box that she instantly recognizes the significance of.

"Oh, Josh..." she sighs, looking away from him. "What made you think we could ever get married?" She asks him, her voice still soft and hushed.

"You said you wanted to give it a real shot, Kate. You said that... that we had a chance."

"Josh," Kate tries, "Castle and I had just been locked in a freezer. We were dying locked in each other's arms." She says, a sad smile shining across her face despite herself. "I tried to tell him how I felt then before it was too late. When I woke up and came to my senses, I needed a place to hide. As long as you were around, I could pretend that those feelings never existed. I'm... I'm sorry, Josh, but... you need to know the truth."

Josh sighs a hard sigh and looks down to the felt box in his hand. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to him."

"Who?"

"Castle," Josh says, lifting the box and still not meeting her eyes. "When I talked to him at the hospital, he... I don't know how, but he somehow knew I was planning on proposing to you. He told me to wait until you recovered. He said... I wouldn't forgive myself if I got anything but an honest answer." Kate's heart hardens in her chest. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to him."

"You talked to him at the hospital?" She asks, her voice sharpened with a warning. All Josh does is stay silent and look toward the kitchen. Kate's jaw clicks, her mind putting the pieces together. "What did you say, Josh?"

Josh looks into the other room and she knows the look of a man readying a defense. "Kate, I just wanted us to move on from all of that!" Her chest tightens again, her anger and fury quickly swelling up in her system. "I told him that you'd been through enough without him coming around and pushing you, so... so I told him to leave. But I-"

"You told him..." she stops him, her voice shaking with a held back rage, her eyes glaring darkly into him, "to leave?"

All this time she spent angry at him, blaming him for abandoning her, for leaving her side when she needed him... and it was because of Josh? "He was the one that pushed you to look into your mom's murder, Kate!" He defends himself. "You think I haven't seen what's behind those shutters?" He asks, waving into the other room. "He got you shot, Kate. It was because of him."

Never, for an instant, did she ever put any blame on that bullet going through her on her partner. For leaving, for what he said the night before, maybe... but never did she put a single ounce of blame on him for what that sniper did to her.

Kate's jaw is clenched and her teeth are grinding together as she glares at Josh. A harsh, violent whisper is all she can risk. "Get out."

"Kate, I was only trying to-"

"_Get-" _She starts to shout, silencing him, "...out. Now."

She stares Josh down for a moment. After a pause of fighting with himself, he squeezes the box in his hand, turns around and whips her door open. She jumps slightly when she hears it slam, her heartrate coming back to normal at the sound of his footsteps storming down the hall. With a sigh of relief, Kate looks back down to the picture, where she remembers smiling up at him that night at the Old Haunt, probably unaware of just how bright her smile is.

Entranced, she reaches over to Sherlock. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?_

* * *

_A/N: Yep, this whole story was just to cater these two scenes. Doesn't mean I don't have the rest of the story lined up though. What'd ya think? :)_


	9. Chapter 9

"You know, she warned me about it." Rick says after a few steps of complete silence except for the wind blowing in his ears and the waves against the cliff face. "She warned me what it would do to her if I brought it up, but I just couldn't resist. I just had to keep pushing her. I told her we could do it, made her believe she was invincible. I believed her when she said that it was about getting justice for her mother."

Jack keeps the slow place next to his son and looks over to him as he sulks with his head hanging low. "What made you think differently?"

The back of Rick's eyes burn. He's met Jack here the past couple of days and he's been spewing every detail he can about his partnership with Kate. A long-held desire in his heart is being exploited, a desire to have fatherly guidance in his life. Jack's advice, philosophy, and wisdom is so much a stark contrast to his mother's off-handed, unsolicited, and more often unhelpful advice. Speaking to Jack, it's like speaking to a sage of himself.

Rick clenches his jaw tightly. "I went to her apartment one afternoon, the night before Montgomery was killed." His heart can barely take thinking about that night. Feeling the stomach-churning sadness, the heart clenching anger... it makes him physically sick to put himself back in that afternoon. "She wasn't letting up and the wolves weren't just in the house, they had already circled her and all they had to do was jump. I didn't want to see her get hurt and I thought I could get her to see that."

Jack just lets him get to it on his own, staying silent when he can. Rick's learned his way of getting things out of him and letting him see things for how they really are on his own. It sticks with you when you realize something on your own. Rick's learned over the past couple of days that Jack isn't beating him over the head senselessly with meaningless life advice quotes like some two-bit therapist. Slowly, he's getting him to ask himself why, to take blame where he should and take credit where he deserves.

"So I said that if she didn't care if she died, there were other people in her life who might not want to be put through that." _A lot of good that did, _he thinks to himself. "I thought I could get her to see that she'd be putting her dad and her boyfriend through exactly what her mother put her through."

"You still haven't answered my question, Richard." Jack says, putting his son back on track before he gets lost in his own guilt again.

Rich takes a shallow breath and shivers at the cold wind splashing against his face. "I realized that it wasn't about getting justice for her mother when all she did was deflect. I told her that it would the people who care about her don't want to see her get herself killed and she deflected it all back on me, saying that I was just..." He can't even bring himself to say it out loud, hearing how much of the truth it rings with.

"Just what, Richard?"

His eyes burn as her words stab him in the chest just like she's standing right in front of him, shooting him with them right now. "That I was just the class clown... using her life as my own personal jungle gym, using her past for my own amusement."

Jack nods to himself, giving his son a moment before he keeps pressing. "And that's what made you think differently?"

Rick blinks rapidly and sucks in a long breath in through his nose, rolling his slumped shoulders back before continuing. "I realized once she said that, that she wasn't after justice for her mother. She was just after a shield. Her mother's case has been a place for her to bury her head in so no one can ever get close to her. And once I realized that... I couldn't stop myself from being honest." He explains, the same frustration and rage bubbling back up inside of his chest as it did that afternoon. "I was just so _damn _frustrated with her. So I... I told her that she was just using her mother's murder as a place to hide, because she was too afraid to find out who she could be without it."

Jack keeps quiet as he takes a step off to the side and moves in front of the bench they neared as Richard was talking and takes a seat. Rick quickly falls down onto the familiar bench looking out onto the ocean and leans on his knees, hanging his head, silently reflecting for a moment.

"Every time I've decided to be completely honest with her, she's tried to throw me out of her life. And the one time I tell her the complete truth and tell her how I feel about her, I'm granted a good grace. The only reason I was probably allowed to see her at the hospital that day at all was because she didn't remember getting shot. I don't think she'd ever speak to me again if she knew the truth."

Rick hears Jack chuckle under his breath and watches out of the corner of his eye as he puts his leg on top of his knee and leans back. "You read Shakespeare, Richard?"

Too entrenched in his own heartache, Rick somewhat deflects and leans forward on his forearms resting on his knees and looks out to the ocean. "Not really, no."

"Truth is a dog we must to kennel. It must be whipped-"

"Be whipped out," Rick continues, talking over him, "while Lady Brach may sit by the fire and stink." He raddles off, uninterested but feeling Jack's eyes on him. Rick looks over his shoulder to him, seeing Jack look at him with a quirked brow and a slight smirk, the same exact look he'd give Alexis if she outsmarted him. "King Lear, I played the fool in high school."

Jack laughs softly. "You know what it means?"

"I didn't exactly take the part for the poetry, Jack." Rick bewails almost spitefully as he looks back down to the ocean over the cliff face.

"See, honesty isn't really an admired virtue, Richard." Jack explains. "People only like honesty if they like what you have to say."

Rick grits his teeth and shakes his head. He's falling into a deep well and any semblance of confidence seems to be at the top, taunting him by holding the rope and laughing.

"You flatter her, it may feel good to get that beautiful smile, maybe even a laugh if you're lucky. You eventually end up scared to do anything but flatter her because you're scared to death to have her know the truth. But you're smart enough to figure out by now that flattery is just a nicer way of lying to someone, Richard."

"But what if that's what she wants?" He asks, looking over his shoulder at Jack with a knot in his brow.

"Son, the only person who can tell you what she wants is her and until she tells you, that's a pointless question. You're only asking me that because you want me to tell you that you don't have to be honest with her because just giving her compliments and bringing her coffee doesn't have any consequences. But tell me, Richard, why can't you do that?"

"I can't do that because I care about her too much!" He replies loudly, locking eyes with Jack, who's just as calm and stoic as he always is.

Rick shakes his head on a sigh and throws himself back, leaning back on the bench. "You're a great man, Richard. But right now, it's pretty pointless to tell you that."

"Why?"

"Because right now," Jack says, looking over to him, "you wouldn't believe me."

* * *

It's dark in Manhattan, the city alive and noisy as she nervously makes her way through the entrance to his building and onto the elevator. Clad in a tight-fitting, but warm dark blue hoodie, jeans, and running shoes, with her hair still tied back into the same low loose ponytail she tied this morning before she left for work, she steps off the elevator onto the second floor. It's not late into the night and she knows she won't be turned away, or at least she hopes. She can't expect his family to completely absolve her of any blame in this situation, even if it was Josh that sacked all the blame onto his back.

She has spent the last few hours angry at two people, Josh and herself.

Josh for never once telling her that he talked to Castle, for going behind her back and spitting in the face of someone close to her. The only thing she can be proud of herself for doing is throwing him out before he tried to justify his treating her like a child and lying to her. She can only imagine what Josh really said to him that made Castle leave, but she knows it wasn't the truth. And that's what she has to live by now.

The truth. That's what's most important, she knows that now. She knows it's going to be hard, it's going to seem impossible sometimes, but she has to live by the truth. And the truth is Josh didn't send Castle away for her, but him. Josh wanted Castle out of her life for him, so he could be the only one having a shot at her, instead of Castle always hovering safely on the other side, kept close by under the guise of 'just partners'. But she knows now how she's felt.

And she hates herself now for not just putting Josh through a meaningless relationship simply to keep the person she loved at a distance. For all his selfish faults, Josh didn't deserve to be tricked into thinking he meant that much to her. But she hates herself most of all for putting Castle through her meaningless relationship with Josh. Putting the man she was so damn afraid to admit to being in love with for that long, making him watch her be with someone she knew wasn't right for her, ending their friendship when all he did was tell her the truth, that she was just afraid.

The only way she knows how to make it up to him is to show him the same care he showed her and tell him the truth.

She lost her sense as to what she wants out of life, what she wants her life to be and where she wants to take it. She doesn't know where her home is anymore. She's lost her home at the precinct and her place behind the badge. She may have lost every other constant thing that kept her tethered in her old life before all of these scars, but she knows now that there's one thing that she does want in her life, no matter the cost.

And it starts with a soft, trepidatious knock on his dark burgundy door.

After only a moment of heart-stopping anxiousness, she hears movement on the other side of the door just before it starts to open. Her hands nervously clasped in front of her, her breath catches when she sees the unmistakable flare of Alexis' red hair peeking out into the hallway.

Alexis seems stunned for a moment to see her, simply staring at her with a wide expression. "Beckett?"

Kate smiles a bright but small smile over to the teen, seeing the girl is in a casual outfit much matching her own of a pair of jeans, pink socks, and a Marlowe Prep sweatshirt. "Hi, Alexis."

"Uh..." Alexis is at a loss for words. Her mind is whirling, not knowing how to deal with the situation. It's between betraying her dad's trust, not knowing what her dad wants revealed, if anything. But she remembers also that despite everything, at the end of the day, her dad always stood by the fact that Beckett was a good person. "Hi." Alexis smiles.

Seeing the girls smile seems to lighten the twinge of anxiousness from Kate's system, seeing it as a safeguard against having the door slammed in her face.

"Um," Alexis struggles for a moment, looking around before stepping off to the side and opening the door fully with a smile, "come on in." She laughs.

Kate smiles with a nod and with her hands still clasped nervously in front of her, her hands wringing her thumb, she steps inside the loft and feels the warmth of his family setting slowly grace her. It sends a spark of hope that maybe he actually came home and just didn't tell her.

"So," Alexis begins as she shuts the door behind Kate, "how are you? I thought you'd still be recovering."

Kate stands motionless in the foyer of the loft with the same nervous smile she entered with and watches Alexis move around in front of her. "I'm good... actually." She nods. "I sped through my recovery pretty quick."

Alexis sends Kate a familiar looking warm smile. She clearly gets her smile from her father. Kate would know Castle's smile anywhere. "Well..." Alexis seems as nervous to start as Kate as she points behind her shoulder over to the kitchen, "did you want to stay for dinner? Gram and I were about to order-"

"Katherine?" An all too familiar voice beckons from the entrance to Castle's office.

Both Kate and Alexis turn to peer across the living room to see Martha stand at the threshold to Castle's office, clad in a dark blue silk robe reaching the floor and a surprised smile on her face. "Hi, Martha." Kate gives her a small wave.

But Martha is quick to move across the living room, making a quick beeline over to the foyer. "Oooh, Katherine!" Martha coos with outstretched arms. "Oh, come here you beautiful, gorgeous creature, you."

As soon as she's within her reach, Martha wraps her arms around Kate and envelopes her in a warm, motherly hug, swinging her from side to side lightly as she laughs happily. With the joy Martha's exuding, the happiness she's lighting the entire loft with, or maybe Kate's weakness to a familiar feeling motherly figure, Kate's anxiousness and nervousness seem to dissipate with each light swing Martha takes her for in the hug. And in no time, she finds herself putting her arms around Martha in return with a genuine smile.

"Oh, Katherine!" Martha coos again and puts her hands firmly on Kate's arms, smiling up at her. "Oh, dear, it is such a joy to see you."

"You too, Martha." Kate quietly replies, glancing at Alexis over Martha's shoulder and seeing her warmly smiling at the scene between the two.

Martha's eyes skirt about Kate for a moment before she sends her another smile. "Well, I'm afraid if you're looking for Richard, dear, he's-"

"Martha," Kate says firmly but gently, keeping a warm sincere smile on her face.

Martha stops with a bit of a raised brow and doesn't let Kate's arms go as she takes a moment to center herself, looking Martha in the eye.

"You don't have to pretend for my sake, okay?" Kate says. And as the words float in the air of the foyer around the three women, Martha's face soon falls from an expectant smile to a soft, warm gaze of understanding. "I know he's not here."

Martha rubs Kate's arms tenderly a few times and turns around to Alexis. "Alexis, dear, could you give us a minute?"

"Oh, no, Martha, you don't have to-"

"No, Beckett," Alexis stops her, "it's okay. I don't mind." She says and makes for the stairs.

Feeling a pang of guilt, watching the teen go up the stairs, away from the explanation as to why her father isn't here, she feels Martha soon usher her over to the couch. "Come, sit down, dear."

"Martha," Kate tries as they both sit down, facing each other closely. Martha keeps her tender smile over directed at Kate, and she can feel her heart tug again. She does and doesn't want to keep her guard up. She wants to be as truthful as she can, but she doesn't want to give in to the weakness of wanting her mother back and end up spewing out everything before either of them are ready. Kate takes a moment to gather her thoughts and her approach before giving Martha a small nod. "I can't tell you how sorry I am about all this."

"Oh, Katherine," Martha warmly waves her off, "it's not your fault, dear. Neither I nor Alexis put any of the blame on my son's globetrotting on you."

Kate nods firmly and looks down to the rug, gathering what courage she can for a bout of honesty. "I broke up with Josh this afternoon." Martha simply silently raises her brow in curiosity. "He admitted when I was telling him that he told Castle to leave."

"Katherine, Richard would not have left because Josh, or anyone else for that matter, told him to. Because," Martha sighs and shifts herself on the couch, "truth be told, this isn't the first time Richard has done this."

Kate's brow knits. "What do you mean?"

"It was just after that... awful harlot filed for divorce from Richard."

"Awful harlot?" Kate asks, briefly stopping the conversation.

"Richard's first wife. You'll forgive me if I don't want to utter her name in polite conversation, lest we risk opening a gate to the underworld." A laugh and bright smile shoot up onto Kate's face at Martha's crack at Meredith. "Richard was devastated at that women stepping out on him, and he put it all on himself. Soon after the divorce was finalized, he asked me to come and watch Alexis while he went away. He said he didn't want his five-year-old picking up on his devastation and thinking it was her fault. Richard left without another word and we didn't see him for another three months. So, Katherine, you mustn't place any blame for this on yourself."

Kate feels her heart lodged in her throat. Castle doesn't deserve as much heartache as he's had to suffer. "I have to find him, Martha."

She can tell Martha is hesitating to give her an answer. "I'm afraid I don't know where he is, dear. That day affected Richard more than he wants to admit and if he doesn't want to be found-"

"Martha?" Kate stops her, her heart not able to take any more of her being half-truthed for the sake of her feelings. Martha stops and looks back over to Katherine. "For two months, I've been in recovery with nothing but a stuffed bear with his voice in it and after two months, I've finally learned that my life is too short and too fragile to not be completely honest with myself." Hearing her admission, Martha's expectant brow soon melts into warm gentleness again. "So I'd appreciate it if you were completely honest with me too."

Martha smiles sadly and reaches over, taking Kate's hand in her's.

"I know how I feel about him, Martha." She admits, her heart pounding hard in her chest as she feels Martha's motherly gaze on her. Her eyes burn again as she feels the words rise up. "I'm in love with him. And I have to find him."

"Katherine..." Martha emotionally starts and pats Kate's hand softly, "if I knew where Richard was, rest assured, they would be the very next words out of my mouth. Richard left his phone in his office and we haven't heard from him since he left. He only told Alexis he was leaving the day he came home from the hospital."

"I need him in my life, Martha." Kate continues, her eyes starting to burn uncomfortably. "I walked away from my mother's murder, I quit my job this morning, I've been trying to figure out what I want my life to be for weeks and right now the only thing I know for sure is that I want him to be a part of it."

"Wait, Katherine," Martha seems to stop her with a knitted brow and her smile shifting into concern. "You resigned from the NYPD?"

"Suffice it to say," Kate resigns to just giving Martha a brief explanation, saving the full story for later, "I thought all I needed to do was go back to work and everything would be fine, but..."

"Ah," Martha says, waving her hand in the air, "but... you can never go home again, as the old saying goes."

Kate smiles, "Exactly."

"Well, dear," Martha gets back on track, "what will you do in the meantime? I mean, do you have any savings?"

"I'll be fine, Martha." Kate raises her hand.

"Oh, nonsense. Well," Martha says and squeezes Kate's hand, "you'll stay here."

"Oh no, Martha, I couldn't." Kate laughs.

"Nope, I don't want to hear any more of it." Martha demands and stands up, taking Kate's hand with her. Kate stands up, feeling no real way around this that doesn't involve outright rejecting the offer. "Richard has always treated you and your friends as family, and in just because Richard is not here does not mean we should treat you any different. You are practically family already, and besides," Martha rattles off, leaning in closer to Kate, "you are going through a time in your life where family is just what you need, trust me."

Martha soon is off, wagging her finger in the air as she sashays around the couch.

"A spirit as bright and vibrant as yours is _just _what this dreadful loft needs, anyway. I tell you," Martha stops at the island near the kitchen, looking down on the counter, "if only I learned to cook in my many years as a mother."

She may not have a home, she probably still is no closer to getting her partner back, but maybe Martha's right. Maybe this is what she needs, for now. So, with a smile, she moves into the kitchen. "If you get me some mayonnaise, some parmesan cheese, some chicken, and show me where you guys keep your spice rack, I think I can get you guys some home cooking."

* * *

_A/N: Loved the response I got from the last chapter. I know this update took this long, wanted to take the day off and play guitar._


	10. Chapter 10

He can never remember his heart feeling this way, aching this much. He dug himself into this hole today. "I don't think I can do it."

Jack looks over to Rick, seated in the same bench they have been meeting at the past couple days, his son leaned forward on his knees, a clench in his jaw and a deep furrow in his brow. "Do what, Richard?"

"Get passed her." He feels his jaw click again, swallowing thickly. It hurts... every part of him feels like it's pulling apart from itself. "I mean, I changed myself for her." He says, twisting his expression and looking over his shoulder. Jack still stays as calm, collected, and stoic as he normally is. "For three years, I tried to make myself into someone that woman could love."

"You didn't change that much, Richard." Jack says with a simple lift of his brow.

"Like hell," Rick hisses and shakes his head back out to the ocean. "You didn't know me before. You barely know me now." He fires at him in response, out of defense for what, he really can't tell. Defense of his old self? Defense of her and the hold she's had on him this whole time?

"Richard, I think Meredith changed you far more than Beckett could ever hope to." He replies, seeming to let the slite roll off his back.

Rick grits his teeth at the thought of that woman. He was too blinded by heartbreak over what Kyra had done to realize what Meredith was doing. "I thought me and Kyra could work passed it." He thinks out loud, hanging his head down. "I thought we could work passed her family looking at me like I belonged being scrapped off the bottom of one of their shoes. But no matter what I did, she always said I was never enough. I thought my life was over when she ran away to London."

Jack waits Rick out, as he usually does. He sees in his eye, the twinge and grimaced when he thinks back to something that connects a dot.

"Meredith fawning all over me made me feel like I was the biggest person on Earth. I didn't even have to try with her. I blinked and we got Alexis. I didn't even see it coming when I found out that she'd been cheating on me. And when her lawyer handed me those divorce papers... I could barely live with the mistake I'd made falling for it all. So yeah, maybe I did spend few too many years chasing after that feeling Meredith gave me. And Gina," Rick chuckles despite himself, "all she was was a beautiful woman who said she'd watch Alexis a few times. We spent most of our marriage arguing over the fact that we just couldn't stop arguing."

"And Kate?" Jack says, getting Rick back on the path he'd started down.

Rick feels his eyes pull themselves closed as her presence seems to envelop him, the thought of her overwhelming his conscience. "She didn't demand that I be better." He says, his breath gripped in his throat. "She made me want to be. Her graceful strength, her iron-willed determination, the depths of her mind and her courage. I never once had to tell myself I was in love with her. Instead, I had to force myself to think I wasn't just so I could stand being around her. She showed me what strength of heart looks like. I've always written about death but being around her and her showing me what it looks like got me to take life more seriously."

Jack watches as Rick keeps his eyes gazing hopelessly down to the grass and knows when he has nothing more to say, knows when he's just silent and lost in some memory of the two of them thinking that's all he has left. "You ready to admit why you really left yet, Richard?"

Rick looks over his shoulder with an arched brow. He knows he won't get away with the answers he's given Alexis. Jack can smell it on him. "Because I don't want to admit one of two things to be true."

Jack looks down at Rick, calmly waiting for his answer.

"Either I'm not strong enough to stomach watching her pick the wrong guy... or I'm not strong enough to admit that it's just not me."

Jack nods to himself, looking down to his lap for a moment. "Both of those are based on you not willing to act, Richard."

That gains Rick's eyes, surprised as it pierces into a place Rick hadn't considered.

"You know, it's real easy to say you're against killing a man when he hasn't raped your daughter." Jack says, as if it's supposed to mean something deeper to Rick. He just keeps eyeing him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean morals are very easy to keep until it comes time to act on them. Whether you believe your partner getting shot was your fault or not, you're the one who chose to leave. Even if it was your fault, Richard, what would leaving really solve?"

"If it wasn't for me," Rick defends himself and sits up, "they never would have targeted her in the first place! I was the one who pushed her to look into it."

"And at the end of the day, she was the one that made the decision, Richard. You know that." Jack says quickly, nodding his head toward him. "No matter what you did or didn't say, she chose to investigate the case, not you. It was her responsibility to know the consequences and live with them, not yours. The only person making you feel guilty for that is you, Richard."

"If I don't hold myself accountable, who else will?" He demands.

"You're not looking for accountability, Richard. You're looking for an excuse."

"Excuse for what?!"

"An excuse for your own cowardice." That seems to flank passed Rick's defenses, a level of truth on the matter he wasn't willing to admit to yet. "That's why you really left, Richard. But you already knew that. And the longer you stay here, or in Barcelona, or Dubai, or wherever, the harder it's going to be to go home. Because you know that even if you go back and she has moved on, you wouldn't have."

Rick looks back over his shoulder to Jack, his eyes stinging and wide with an uncomfortable level of vulnerability that makes him feel like a child. "But I can't be around her if I don't get to be with her anymore."

"Then tell her that."

"I go to see her at the hospital and the _first..._" he trails off, the need the defend his actions, even if they were out of cowardice, getting the better of him. He shakes his head and harshly pushes his fingers through his short hair that he had trimmed differently to more hide his identity. "If I go to her again, all she'll want to do is look into that case more so than she already is. I've already lost her once, I can't go through that again."

"Son, from what you told me," Jack starts in a different tone, "killing your partner wasn't even the real objective of the person sent after her. She'll probably be fine."

"W-what..." he stops, the thick lethargic and unsatisfying blood in his veins turning warm the instant Jack's tone shifts. "What do you mean?" He asks and sits back up and turns to face him.

"Richard, put yourself in the shooter's position." Jack says, appealing to Rick's well-tuned empathy as a writer. "You're contracted to kill a trained police detective, what's the best place to take the shot? At a funeral for a police captain where the cemetery will be filled with fully trained police detectives and cavalry or something simple like when she's coming out of her apartment building?"

Rick's mind is whipped into another state of thinking and his self-deprecation and self-loathing are left behind as he turns himself over to Jack. "If killing Beckett wasn't the sniper's real goal, then what..." his eyes haze over for a moment as he trails off before it hits him. "They wanted to send a message. Killing Beckett was just a side effect."

Jack simply stares over at his son, staying silent. He's probably said too much to get his son back on track already. Jack looks away for a moment down to his lap before taking a small breath, pulling his hand out of his pocket and looking at his watch. "It's getting late, Richard."

Then Jack stands and without another word starts around the bench and back down the hill toward town. "What should I do?" Rick shouts back, still seated on the bench.

"Look for answers, Richard, not excuses." He shouts back and disappears under the hill.

* * *

With a warm, almost tentative smile, Alexis stands up from her chair. "Thanks again for dinner, Beckett."

Kate chuckles with a smile and stands up behind the teen, grabbing her own plate. "Alexis, this is the second time I've cooked dinner for you guys. I think it's safe for you to call me, Kate."

Alexis seems to blush with nervousness as she goes to the sink to rinse off her plate. Martha finished ahead of the two of them and said she'd retire to Rick's office to watch TV for a bit. It's just been Alexis and Kate for the last ten minutes or so in relative silence. It's her second night here and she's more tired than she wants anyone to pick up on. She felt obligated to treat Castle's family to another home cooked meal, courtesy of her mother letting her in on some recipes just before she went off to college.

She couldn't get comfortable last night in the guest bed. It's as luxurious, plush, and comfortable as she remembers it being, much more so than her cop's salary can afford, but she was missing Sherlock. She didn't have the heart to leave Martha and the loft right after dinner to go back and simply decided to sleep with just a few less articles of clothing. But her and Martha left for her apartment to pack her a small duffle bag with what she needed, among which was her stuffed bear tucked in the right side against her clothes, and now sits resting on the guest bed.

Kate watches out of the corner of her eye as she puts the black pepper away and grabs the cheese grater off the counter at Alexis. The teen quickly finishes her plate and puts it in the dishwasher then turns out of the kitchen and heads back into the living room, pulling her phone out of her back pocket again, seeming to check her messages. She can hear Alexis' dejected sigh from the corner of the kitchen while Alexis pushes her phone back into her pocket and looks over to the wall at the clock. She can see Alexis' eyes distance themselves from reality as she seems to be thinking something before coming up with an answer and shaking her head, sitting back down to the couch.

She can't help but notice the girl's behavior.

Kate puts it to the back of her mind as she goes about cleaning up the mess she made making her mother's spiced sausage meatloaf.

"Ugh," an unmistakable groan comes from the entrance to Castle's office. Kate turns away from the cupboard to see Martha with her hand in the air and an impatient drag on her face. "Here I was in the mood for a timeless classic. Something like Casablanca," Martha sashays with almost a yearning sigh as she rounds the chairs in the living room, "or Claudette Colbert's brilliant performance of It Happened One Night."

Kate's already smiling at Martha's antics, lifting and waving her arms theatrically as she rounds the furniture. Kate meanders her rinsing off of the bowl she used for the pepper jack cheese simply to watch Castle's mother, clearly the one who gave Castle his love to play things up simply to get her to smile.

"But alas, what do I find playing? Yet another rerun of Forbidden Planet." Martha groans next to the couch at Alexis, shaking her head, pursing her lips, and flicking her wrist in the air.

"Forbidden Planet?" Alexis chirps, pushing herself up on the couch to turn mid-air and sit longways across the cushions. "Gram, that's one of Dad's favorite movies." Kate can barely contain her face splitting, almost gloatful smile and crocked brow as she feels herself responsible for making it one of his favorites from that night they spent out together.

It's thinking about simple, fun nights out like that that remind her that no matter what they say or what they label each other as, they were friends. They shared much more than just the precinct together.

"You don't like it?" Alexis asks her grandmother.

"Forgive me, darling, but I just find it rather childish. That's all." Martha defends herself.

Kate bites the inside of her lip, thinking back to the half-serious argument along these same lines with Josh the last time they showed Forbidden Planet on TV while she was still in recovery. "Well, I liked it." Alexis sighs and pulls out her phone again and brings her knees up to her chest, checking her phone only for a moment.

"Oh, Katherine," Martha sighs happily and quickly moves into the kitchen once she sees Kate at work on the dishes. "Please, dear, let me take care of those. After all, you did cook dinner."

Kate, still fighting an intense smile at the thought of her imparting one of her favorite movies onto Castle all on her own, isn't able to react to Martha grabbing the white plastic bowl from her hands and pushing her lightly by the arm, ushering her out of the kitchen. "No, Martha," she chuckles, "I can-"

"Katherine, you are a guest as part of this house, _not_\- a live-in maid. Now..." Martha says slowly and turns Kate by the arms and points her toward the couch. "Go and relax. Treat yourself to some wine, put your feet up, and let me handle the rest of this."

Her eyes only glance wantingly at the wine cooler next to the fridge as she moves out of the kitchen before rounding the couch and sitting in the opposite corner of Alexis. It's a brief second that Kate notices that Alexis is simply staring at the screen of her phone before Alexis pulls her phone closer to her and hides it.

"I didn't know you liked Forbidden Planet, Alexis." Kate starts, only partly with the intention of setting herself up for a moment of gloating.

Alexis smiles with a small nod and looks back down to her phone. "Yeah, Dad and I watched it together all the time after my mom left."

Kate feels herself freeze, her smile flying off her face and her eyes staring off into a space on the rug. She replays the girl's words in her head, but... "Huh?"

Alexis looks back up with the same naive smile. "Yeah, I was home sick from school for a few days when I was eight and we stayed in watching our favorite movies."

"Y-you mean..." she tries but ends up failing, letting the words remain stuck in her throat before she realizes what had happened. Kate lets out a breath and grins, biting the inside of her lip again. "I'm going to kill him."

* * *

Kate turns over again in bed, kicking out the tangles of the plush comforter and comes to rest on her right side, hoping the dull pull of her scars will stop of she sleeps on this side. She tugs Sherlock closer to her as she pinches and punches the pillow under her head before setting it back down with a bounce. It's one o'clock in the morning and she can't, for the life of her, get to sleep. She should be exhausted, but when she tests her eyes by blinking a few times, there's not even a hint of drag, which tells her she's no closer to sleep than she was the moment she pulled the sheets back three hours ago.

She enjoyed her first full day here. Martha kept her distracted for most of the day. Kate likes talking to her. Martha's exuberant and vibrant personality is tough to contain at times and not always called for, but she can tell that her motherly instincts know when to switch it off and be nurturing. Martha knowing how she feels about Castle seems to be helping. She's not so afraid to dance around the issue and have to keep excuses and quips lined up in her back pocket in case the topic comes up. She doesn't have to skirt the issue.

And the more she thinks about all of this, the farther away from sleep she knows she's getting. Maybe she just has to go to the bathroom and doesn't know it, maybe that's why her body is keeping her awake. So with a fitful flail of her limbs to untangle herself from the bedding, her bare feet hit the hardwood and she moves to the door and into the hallway, padding on the front of her foot to avoid noise as she walks to the end of the hall to the bathroom.

But when she passes the first door on the right, a noise whisks into her ear that makes her stop and listen. And when she listens, the volume only increases. She'd know that sound anywhere. As quietly as she can, she pads over to the door and puts her ear to it, hearing the clear sound of someone's ragged breathing and silent crying. When she hears a sniffle, her knuckle is already at the door.

The knock is soft, but there. "Alexis?" She calls quietly. When she doesn't hear a response right away, but instead hears a bit of a rustle from behind the door, she tries again. "Alexis, is everything okay?"

She can hear the girl sniffle again before calling back. "Come in."

Kate slowly pushes open the door just as Alexis is clicking on a lamp at her bedside. "Hey," she starts, trying to sound like a friend and overly careful not to sound like a mother. She knows what it would feel like if someone barged into her life trying to be her own mother. She sees Alexis curled up at the head of her bed, her knees up at her chest, her laptop open and her phone sitting beside it. "You okay?"

Alexis doesn't look at her and instead focuses on a spot on her dresser on the opposite end of her room. "I'm fine."

Kate notices the signs, clear as day. Alexis has been noticeably distant and at first, she played it off as her just being uncomfortable with Kate's staying here. But there's a part of her that's telling her it's something else because she doesn't only seem distant with her but her own grandmother. She's been focusing a lot on her phone, and at first, she played it off as Alexis being another teenager glued to her cell phone until she noticed that Alexis is glued to the home screen of her cell phone as if she's waiting for it to ring.

Kate takes a fortifying breath and takes a step inside. "I don't think it would be right for me to force you to tell me anything, but..." Kate starts, taking a moment to decide on her approach. "You know, when my dad was still drinking, we'd get complaints from the neighbors sometimes." She says and sits on the far corner of Alexis' bed. "It would have been easy to just tell them that he was a drunk and that's what he does, but..." Kate purses her lips with a shrug, "he's my dad. So every time they'd complain, I'd fight it and make up excuses because... that's what a daughter does when all she has is her dad. You feel the need to protect him because if you don't... he's all you have."

Alexis's teary red eyes flick back over to Kate, wanting her to understand. And when Kate just smiles in the understanding Alexis is looking for, she nods. "Dad always said you were a great detective." Kate can feel herself fight a blush rising up her cheeks as Alexis hugs her legs tighter to her chest. "How'd you know?"

"Well, normally, I wouldn't call it out of the ordinary for a teenage girl to have her head buried in her phone as much as you have today, but usually they're doing something on it. You kinda just been... staring at the home screen." Alexis gives her a nod, knowing she's been caught. "I didn't want to think you were waiting for him to call considering that Martha told me neither of you had heard from him."

Alexis swipes at the bottom of her nose with the sleeve of her pink long-sleeved t-shirt. "I thought if Gram knew he'd been calling me, she'd force me to make him come home, so... I just didn't tell her."

Kate tries to battle the swell in her heart, knowing she finally found a line to Castle, a way into his life, a lifeline to find out how he is and what he's doing. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I came home one afternoon about two months ago and found him in his office with the lights turned off. His hand was bloody and he looked hurt. He said that you'd woken up, but... I couldn't get anything more out of him before he told me he was leaving. I told him that I understood, gave him a hug and then he left. He called me from Italy three weeks later and he's been calling me every other day or so since then, but..."

Kate doesn't want Alexis to lose it, she doesn't want to let her off. She quickly leans forward and puts her hand down onto the bedspread, halfway toward Alexis. "But what?"

Alexis looks back down to her phone on her bed. "He hasn't called me in over four days. I tried calling him myself but I can't get through, otherwise, I would have told him you were here."

"Lex..." she hesitates, not wanting to assume she's developed a rapport with the girl, but also not wanting to sound as an invasive step-mother figure looking to take control. She knows how it would feel if some one came around at her age. No matter how good the woman, she just wouldn't have been her mother and that's the way she would have treated her. "Has he told you why he left? Your grandmother can't seem to give me a straight answer."

Alexis' eyes dilate with fear and she seems to shrink, hugging her legs tighter to herself a bit. "I-I... don't want to-"

"No, it's..." Kate lifts her hand up, giving the girl an out. "I know how it would feel having to speak for my dad."

Alexis nods, looking honestly thankful that she's not being too pushy and demanding answers. "I know he blames himself for your shooting." It's probably what she was most afraid of. That whatever Josh had said to him that day at the hospital had actually convinced him that he had a part to play in that man, whoever he is, pulling that trigger on her. "He says that if it wasn't for him pushing you to investigate, it never would have happened."

A slew of thoughts gallop through her mind. John Raglan still would have been diagnosed with cancer and would have called her, Coonan still would have murdered his own brother, Pulgatti might have still come forward with what he knew. At the end of the day, it was her that made the decision. All he did was stick by her side when no one else would. And when all the thoughts just swirl around her mind faster, it all seems to verge onto two conflicting emotions that seem to go too perfectly together in her system; absolute love and guilt.

"Alexis, Josh was the one who blamed him. He told me when I was breaking up with him yesterday that he told him to leave."

All Alexis does his nod silently and lean her head down, pressing her lips to her legs and looking away, her eyes flaring with red.

"Something happened," Kate starts, deciding to be as honest as the girl can take, and it earns her Alexis' eyes back, "when I was shot... between me and him. Something I can't remember but it changed everything, I can feel it in my gut. I..." she tries, but knows she's going to fail. Being honest with Martha proved a lot easier.

But Alexis seems to look straight through her and picking up on a silent communication that Kate is sending out. "I know he'd come back if I told him I needed him, but... but I don't want him to come home just because of me. I want him to be happy."

_And I want to make him happy, _she says in her mind, but stops the words.

After a long moment between them, Alexis looks back up to Kate. "You promise to bring him back?"

"I'll be on the next flight out."

Alexis nods and looks back down to her phone for a second. "Doolin, Ireland."

* * *

_A/N: I would have posted this chapter this morning, but my writing isn't good enough to become a real writer, so I still have a day job, sadly. What'd ya think? :) _


	11. Chapter 11

It took a loss, a big one, but she has it. What little was left in her savings, sunk into this round trip ticket stuffed into the inside pocket of her tight-fitting black jacket. She zips it back up over her lightweight grey hoodie and readjusts her duffle bag on her shoulder. She's switched off her emotions for this trip, deciding on her usual quiet, reserved, confident approach since she left her apartment. It took some digging, as does everything going through what she sees as another life she lived, but she managed to find her passport.

It didn't take that long and her flight doesn't start boarding for another ten minutes. She was very lucky to get one of the last remaining coach tickets left for the next flight. A six-hour flight into Shannon, another name of another town she's never heard of in a country she's never been to. Kate pulls out her phone as she heads away from TSA and starts typing in the distance between Shannon and Doolin, calculating at just what time she'll arrive.

Just under eight hours. And the only thing that's making it at all easy is a prayer that he's actually still there. She didn't have much savings left at all, so the invitation to stay at the loft was an early blessing now that she thinks about it. She hasn't even begun to try to leap the chasm that is deciding what she'll do after all this.

It's just rounding near three in the morning and Kate, if she's continuing with her brutally self-honesty streak, is scared.

She only has a few hundred left in her account after the ticket. She didn't even spend any time at all planning to pack, simply stuffed Sherlock into the same spot she stuffed him into back at her apartment less than twenty-four hours ago, zipped her duffle bag back up, and hailed a cab. The only lead to her partner she has in a name of a town in Ireland that was of no real significance until Alexis told her it existed. She has nothing to go on but hope that he found something in Ireland to stick around for long enough to search through the...

She can feel a humorous grin peak on her face as she scrolls through her phone. A town this small, it might be easier to find him than she was planning for. She can't even seem to find an actual population number.

Shaking her head in almost reverence as to why Castle chose that place of all places in Europe to hide out in and continues through the shops in the terminal. Passing the businessmen, the vacationers and tourists, and the parents of overly excited children, she passes by a souvenir shop, offering the usual New York-esque trinkets of miniature Empire State Buildings and Liberty Statues, something near the register catches her eye.

She'd know a cover of one of his books anywhere.

Her heeled boots stop and are moving into the entrance before she can decide against it, almost drawn to the familiar looking feel of nostalgia the cover offers and a sense of unexplored mystery and delight at knowing she's never seen it before now. With everything else she's been dealing with, from hiding up in seclusion at her dad's cabin to coming back and holding her life upside down by the ankles and giving it a violent shake, she almost forgot that the man she's chasing after is a writer.

And something or one seems to be looking out for her as she grabs the last copy and puts it on the counter in one swift movement of her arm.

The uninterested cashier, not shined upon by the same luck she has been for catching the graveyard shift, checked her out without a word, not even bothering to read off the heavily inflated price. When she thinks about it, she could have just gotten the story for free and had the guy who wrote it tell it to her, but even before the artist, she found it easy to get lost in the art of his books. She pays, grabs the book as wordlessly as the cashier, and turns back to continue through the terminal.

Still drawing on her quiet, reserved strength, she keeps the book clutched by the thick spine on her right side, holding the strap of her duffle bag in place with her left. She finds it easy enough to find her gate and find a seat in the middle of the large slew of people waiting for boarding to begin.

Next to an older, heavy-set man, asleep in his chair with his feet up on a hardshell case for an acoustic guitar, she sits down, setting her duffle bag at her feet and the book in her lap. She only glances down at the yellow and orange fade of the hard back and reaches down to her bag, unzipping one side just enough to pull back the flap and peak inside. She doesn't want to pull him out, at least not give into the need for his cozy comfort until she's on the plane. But Sherlock is still there.

After everything she's gone through after that day in the hospital, she can't imagine herself not being this attached to this light brown stuffed bear with the plastic magnifying glass and the dark grey Sherlock Holmes hat. "Just you and me, buddy." She mutters and replaces the flap.

Kate sits back, pushing her hair behind her ear and holds the book in front of her.

The last two books he's dedicated to her. She's felt those dedications seem to mean more to her as time goes on than they did when she first read them. He can be poetic when he wants to be. He always knows just what to say, but at the same time, never knows the right time to say it. His occasional impromptu childishness and bits of wise cracks made over a body that isn't even cold yet are proof enough. But his books... they're his passion. She wouldn't be reading the same book if what he loved doing didn't come across on the page.

And now, she can't help but think that everything she was so sure on has a question mark attached to it.

Everything was always subtext and hidden meanings with them. She can only know the truth about what she meant, not what he meant. Did he use the dedication for Rising Heat as a means to effectively end their partnership like she tried to do out of not standing to hear any more of the truth? Or did he use it to say goodbye to the world just before he ran off, knowing the only person who will hear from him is his daughter? Did he use it to tell the whole world what she meant to him instead of just coming to her? Or did he use it as a means to boost himself up, thanking the NYPD for giving him the inspiration he needed to write the book?

With a scared hand, she pulls on the cover and flips over two pages before three small lines of short text jump out at her and clench her heart.

_To Captain Roy Montgomery, NYPD.  
He made a stand and taught me all I need to know  
about bravery and character._

Her fingers tremble slightly on the page as she looks over the text. She shuts her lips and looks up with hazy eyes. She could take it a million different ways; a rejection, a part of ways, a slight to her saying she wasn't the real inspiration. But she wouldn't love him this much if she didn't know who he really was. And when she thinks about it, she feels herself chuckle silently, half resembling a sob as she lets a soft smile shine across her face and lets her bottom lip fall in between her teeth.

"Okay, Castle." She murmurs, looking back down to the page and petting the words. This is what she loves most about him, his heart. "I get it."

* * *

It's nearing noon, but he overslept and got caught up in a conversation with Stacey over breakfast. She had just found out she's pregnant and Rick couldn't help but step in with parenting tips for the unprepared.

He's usually talking to Jack by now, but it was a late start today. He couldn't seem to find the usual motivation he has to get out of bed. The self analysis Jack has plunged him into is only getting harder. He thought that by now, there'd at least be a light at the end of the tunnel, a driftwood sign in the swamp at the very least. Running away from his problems and hoping they wouldn't be there when he got bored of running all over the place was easy enough. All he had to do was wait long enough. He knew he wasn't putting any effort whatsoever to actually moving on from her, because that was never the intention. He never wanted to move on.

Because he never even got to have her. She was never his, not once. He only got to kiss her once and he's sure what he felt, as life-altering as it was, was nothing compared to how it would have been if it had been under normal, more private circumstances. If they'd been in the hallway outside one of their homes after just a normal night out, unwinding after a case, what her lips would have felt like. He never intended to move on because he just wants it too damn badly. He never wanted to move on from the desire to hold her in his arms just because she wanted to be in them because, at this point, the desire feels more important to him than actually getting to it.

If Jack's talks, if they've done anything at all, have done is make him call into question just what kind of man he is. Is he that fleeting, nihilistic, shallow, empty playboy only worried about where the next camera is at and where the next empty nobody wants his autograph like he was the first time she flashed her badge at him. As boring as it got to be, it was safe for him. No feeling and no risk at least meant no consequences and no heartbreak. There are guys who would kill to be in that position and probably have, thinking it's the perfect life to have.

And it was easy for him. His credit line made it easier than his jaw line did. But even if he is just that shallow playboy from back when, he'd give up that life he led in a heartbeat if it meant just spending a fraction of that time in the life he wanted to have with her.

He blinks his eyes hard a few times against the cold wind of the usually cloudy day in Doolin and starts up the hill to the coast line, hearing the crush and roll of the tide against the rocks. He should be keeping all of it until he sees Jack again. He knows he won't be able to recall these thoughts out of hand, they're not the type of mental notecard to keep in your back pocket. Just thoughts that the darker side of your ambition, ego, and narcissism spit at each other when there's no other noise in your ears.

Rick pushes his hands into the pockets of his dark green jacket, his hiking boots digging into the sod on the hill, and the collar of his light grey flannel flicking against his thin layer of dark scruff. When he reaches the top of the hill and quickly spots the bench overlooking the cliffs, his heart is pierced when he finds it empty.

He's here. He's usually here, he's always here.

Rick checks his watch and sees he has the right time, that it's just five minutes past noon. He should be here.

A cold, almost physically painful twang floods through his entire body. He hasn't felt this uncurable feeling in a long time, not since he was a lonely kid, looking for parental guidance and love in the halls of the New York Public Library. If the air wasn't as misty as it is, he'd be sure he was crying right now. He feels weak, sick to his stomach at what he's realizing. Just like everyone else important in his life, they're never there when he needs them the most. Jack, his real father or not, got him to divulge things about himself he hadn't even admitted to himself.

Because Rick told him everything. Things not even his mother knows. Everything about Kate, her mother's murder, about Tyson, he went over everything in the four days they met at this bench. And now... he's been abandoned... again.

With a drunken-like slosh around the side of the bench, Rick supports himself by the arm of the bench and moves to fall down on the bench until his eyes catch something. A dark burgundy book with a cloth covering and a gold enlay in the left-hand corner. His already distraught expression tightens into frustrated curiosity as he reaches down and takes the thin hard cover book in his hand, with a simple title reading _King Lear _and a line drawn underneath it and the name _Shakespeare_ encased around a circular floral pattern.

Shaking his head in a sense of disbelief and fury, he waves the book in front of him for a moment. He looks at it only briefly before looking out to the ocean, contemplating throwing the book in the ocean to be lost along with everything else that man bothered to tell him.

His fingers press into the cloth on the cover and he starts to recite. "Truth is a dog we must to kennel. It must be whipped out, while Lady Brach may sit by the fire and stink."

Rick swallows thickly passed his own heart and stuffs the book into the large side pocket of his jacket, looking over the ocean. He may not be able to kennel the truth just yet, but what he can accept is that whatever way he's destined for, he'll have to do it alone. He has to stop looking for others to hitch himself to, hoping they'll keep him on the ride long enough, just like his father. If only, god help him, he knew just where the hell his path is.

Looking away from the ocean, he starts the trek back down the hill with his eyes down to the grass, willing away what moisture away from his eyes that he can't blame on the weather. He sniffles the cold air and hardens his heart in his chest as he catches the edge of the one street town with his eye, and it catches a brief sight of a cab door opening and a tall figure stepping out.

Rick double takes, his heart swelling cautiously in his chest. He doesn't want to admit that he's to the point in his desperation to where he's projecting her luscious curls whipping gracefully with the breeze onto some tourist stopping in to visit the cliffs. But the twisting knot in his stomach isn't letting go of his breath, even as the figure turns to look down opposite the street, taking a step as she does away from the cab and flinging the door closed while pulling the strap of a duffle bag onto her shoulder.

* * *

"Here she is, Miss." The driver says, his accent very culturally thick. "Doolin, Ireland."

After hours and hours of anxiety, she's finally here. Endless hours in coach seating and asking how she can get a cab to Doolin, she's here. She makes sure her page is marked and stuffs the book in her duffle bag in front of Sherlock, who seems to give her a Castle-esque wink of encouragement. She puts the fare into the driver's hand in a hurry, not offering him anything other than a rushed thank you as she grabs the strap of her luggage at the same time she's pushing the door open.

The town is much smaller and much more quaint than the Google image searches portrayed as she steps out into the coastal breeze. She looks down the street the cab driver stopped on, seeing only small, two-story houses and shops. On a sigh of relief she's finally here, she turns to look at just how close to the coast she is and her eyes catch a man standing dead still on a hill, looking straight at her.

Her heart palpitates achingly just below her scar and her eyes already burn. His hair is shorter than last she saw it, he seems thinner under his dark green cargo jacket, his scruff looks as if it's kept there on purpose as opposed to just not shaving. But she knows him. She'd know his eyes anywhere.

Her lungs finally let out a ragged, shaky breath as her legs ignite a fire inside of her muscles and take off, running onto the grass and up the hill, pulling the strap of her bag off her shoulder and letting it fall to the ground behind her. Her eyes never leave him as he only seems to pace forward a couple of steps, but she's on a full sprint toward him. She can't even recognize her old life and hasn't even begun to form the new one. But she knows one thing and she's running toward it with burning eyes and straining lungs.

Once he's within reach, her feet slam her to a stop in front of him and she lands just inches away from him, her hands landing on his chest and feeling his on her waist. Those blue eyes, she's seen so many things in those eyes, but... the only thing she can see right now is what she can only describe as fear. He left her, ran away, and he's still afraid?

Her hands ball up against his chest and she shakes her head once and looks away from him, her burning eyes finally giving way into tears. Her right hand raises off his chest in a fist, wanting to slam it down into him. She wants to strike him for leaving when she loves him this much, wants to hit him for abandoning her for the first time when she needed him the most. Her fist shakes above her head before her eyes glance away from the chest she wants to pound her fist into and back up to him.

And when she sees his expression has fallen down into a pang of long guilt, her heart pulls violently and she throws her arms around his neck, squeezing as tight as she can.

Rick reacts firstly out of instinct by her arms vicing around his neck and puts his arms securely around her, hugging her back. He would have deserved whatever she had to say about him. His cowardice, his fear, his guilt, his shame about everything he put her through. It would have felt deserved, every bit of the lashing she looks prepared to give him. But she's squeezing his neck with her arms, hugging him tighter than he ever has been before. So for once, he decides to live in the moment with her in his arms while he can.

He lets his eyes drift shut as he snakes his arms tighter around her, enveloping her slender body fully with his left pressing her by the small of her back into him and the right moving up her spine and taking hold of her shoulder, burying his face in the softness of the skin on the crook of her neck and the scent of her hair, getting lost in everything about her.

And when he does, Kate decides to no have any tears about the moment. She doesn't want to etch this memory into her brain with any tears being in her eyes. Just him and the safety of his arms as they close in around her and pull her against him tight enough to where she starts to feel the weight lift off the tips of her feet.

Neither of them bothers to count how long Rick holds her like he is, pinned against her almost helplessly until Kate puts her hand on his hair and pets the back of his head softly with her thumb and starts to move out of his embrace. He sets her back down and moves his arms out from around her, keeping his hands on her waist.

She slides her hands down to his chest and looks up at him, a stern softness portrayed in her expression. She unzips the top of her jacket and reaches into her inside pocket, pulling out her plane ticket and showing it to him.

"I have a round trip ticket." His entire body tightens at the sound of her voice, seeming to ensure to him she's not an illusion. "It leaves tonight... and you're going to be on it."

He looks away from her but squeezes her waist with his fingers in a light squeeze. "Kate..."

"I'm bringing you home, Castle." She stops him, her voice just above a whisper but strong. "And I'm not leaving without you." Her hands press softly into his chest and she looks as deeply into his eyes as she can, hoping to get through to him. "You need to come home, Rick."

* * *

He pulls back the light fabric of the curtain a bit and glances out the window to the hill, watching him slide his arms out from around a tall, slender woman with her arms around him. On a deep sigh, he puts the ear piece in his ear and presses the button on the side, hearing the ring.

"_Well?" _

"It's done." He says, turning around and adjusts his gloves on his hands, picking up the book left on the nightstand. "He's on his way back."

"_How much does he know?"_

He puts the book in a bag and goes to his bag, pulling out his toothbrush. "Not anything solid." He defends, pulling out the cotton swab from the plastic and rubbing it over the handle just below the bristles. "But he is _my _son, he could probably get something out of nothing."

_"Why can't you just do it there?"_

_"_Unless you have as much pull in the Irish authorities as you do with the ones in New York, he needs to be there for it to work."

"_You know the deal, Hunt.__" _

"I'm aware." He says, replacing the swab in the plastic vial and taking the picture tucked into the bottom left pocket. "But he'll be kept alive."

"_I just need her investigating and him out of the picture."_

"We have a deal, remember?" He says, putting the picture and the vial in the bag, zipping it up. "Remember the terms."

"_And you do the same... or I'll make sure you're put back in that military black site I found you in for the rest of your life." _

He clicks the button on the ear piece and rips it from his ear in a single motion, sighing heavily. He pulls back the curtain again and sees him, still with her in his arms, holding her. His heart aches with a long held grief. It's was a dream he had, the family his son had and the life he lived. He wanted that life for himself, but now... it's just a dull ache in an empty heart.

With an empty breath, he puts the plastic bag into the bag on his shoulder, and leaves the room.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Hope this made up for it. Now I get to spend the rest of my three day weekend staring at my inbox reading all your awesome reviews! You guys are great. Thanks for all the ups! C: _


	12. Chapter 12

Tugging the strap of her duffle bag off her shoulder, she goes to set it down next to the bench at the top of the hill overlooking the coast and leaves it up to him to start. No matter who's really to blame, she was at the crux of why he left. It was because of her. She doesn't want to force him to tell her. She wants to be the person in his life that he not only feels comfortable telling those things to, but wants to tell those things to.

Rick starts around the opposite end of the bench that she set her bag down at and hesitates to sit down. For four days, he's used this spot to finally fulfill a wish he's had since childhood; to have a father. But she doesn't know that and the battle going on inside of him is too happy to see her and wants her to be as happy to see him to tell her that the spot she's sitting down in is his dad's spot. So, he swallows it for now and sits down, the same distance away he'd place himself from Jack.

"It's nice here." She finally decides to break the ice, something mild and soft to just let him know that it's alright to talk to her.

"When uh..." he starts, adjusting himself and leaning forward on his knees, "when Gina and I got married, I tried talking her into moving out of Manhattan."

She looks over to him, a soft clench in her throat at how he looks. His hair is shorter and looking a bit ruffled and spiked in the wind, his dark half-beard is reminiscent of when she first met him, he looks like he's gotten his share of the sun over the summer with his skin just a touch darker than it normally is. Yet, she can't help but feel something about him just feels raw... like he's not as emotionally prepared or fortified as he normally would be. More ragged and tired somehow.

"You wanted to move out of the city?" She prods, brushing her hair behind her ear that's flicking in her face with the wind.

He gives her a nod and looks down to the grass. "I bought the loft for Meredith and I when we got married, so I wanted me and Gina to have a place of our own, that was just ours. I tried coaxing her into moving out to the country but..." he trails off, shaking his head almost in defeat, "her job was too important to her to leave."

She smiles at his thoughtfulness, his wants for his marriage. Failed or not, he wanted them to work. "My parents always talked about moving out to the country after I had left the house."

He only responds with a breath outward, almost resembling a chuckle and a twinge of the corner of his lips only lasting a second before he's back to a sullen seriousness. "Alexis told you, didn't she?"

"All she told me was where to find you, Castle." She says, feeling the need to defend the teen. "I'm here on my own."

That draws his eyes and he looks over to her over his shoulder. What she knows and what she doesn't, what brought her here, and what she's been through. Seeing her here, feeling a newcomer to this new leaf he's turned over by leaving, he almost forgot to make the connection that she was that woman suffering on an operating table just two months ago, having to go through all that recovery. He's only realizing now just how easy it is to fall into the trap she offers of just being near him. He can only guess what kind of pain she had to go through and might still be going through... yet she's here to bring him home.

Kate can see a layer of armor shed itself in his eyes, shimmering with a slight vulnerability that he seems to quickly correct by turning back to the ocean. "She knows that if she needed you, you'd be on the next flight out." She continues, not wanting to lose the light of progress now.

All Rick can offer is a solemn nod as he looks back down to the ground. "How is she?" He asks, looking back over his shoulder to her, a sad pinch in his brow. "Really."

Kate shrugs, having only lived with the girl for one day. "She misses you." Rick nods again and looks back down to the ground, staring off into the abyss of his own guilt again. "And she's torn between wanting to see her dad happy and knowing that it would mean disobeying him to make him that way."

Rick stiffens his neck and gnashes his teeth a bit. "So that's it?" He almost accuses her, looking back over his shoulder at her coldly. "You appealed to her as a cop?"

"No, I appealed to her as a teenager who only had her dad and knows what it's like to admit that he's not invincible." She fires back, having kept it in her back pocket. And it disarms him just as she planned. Kate shakes her head, thinking back and putting herself back to those years in her early twenties when she didn't want to admit that her dad wasn't the biggest person in the world anymore, and was human just like everybody else. "I let her know it's okay to feel that way when your dad is all you have."

Alexis knows how he feels about her. But now that she's actually here, the old habit is proving hard to kill of burying it all and overcoming her judgment on him. He just keeps thinking back to that night, being honest with her and getting tossed out of her life for it. "What d-did..." he tries, but can't seem to get it.

Kate understands and decides to give him an out. She takes a soft breath and brushes her hair back again. "It's alright, Castle. Josh told me." She says and stuffs her hand back into the pocket of her jacket.

He looks over to her with a pinch in his brow.

When their eyes meet, she seems to be smirking a bit behind her hair whipping softly against the wind coming off the ocean. "He told me what he said after I broke up with him."

He can't stop the swell in his heart and the flutter in his stomach at the news. It seems to show as he sits up from leaning forward and puts a hand on his knee to push himself upright. "You broke up?" He asks, not able to contain the hopeful lift his voice has.

She lets her smiles warm herself as it sneaks onto her face and she gives him a nod, feeling like she just gave him good news and looking away from him afterward. "Yeah, a few days ago."

"Wh-uh..." he tries again, readjusting himself to scoot farther away from her and sit up straight. He hardens the tingle in his spine and gets ahold of his senses again as much as he can, wrangling in his conflicting desires that are driving his usually smooth vocabulary awry. "Can I ask why?"

The truth quickly starts to stampede its way up her throat, but her better judgment, or worse, catches it before she can form the words. She wants to be honest with him as much as she can, but she knows full well that she's not at that point yet. Spilling her guts to his mother is one thing, a weakness on her part wanting her own back and settling for someone else who will lend an ear, but the man himself is a hurdle she's just not ready for yet.

"Castle, I may not remember getting shot." She says, looking over to him again. "But I remember my recovery... and I've learned something from it."

In waiting for her to continue, he looks into her eyes and quickly starts to lose his senses. He can lose himself so quickly in her.

"I've learned that my life is too short and too fragile to keep lying to myself." Her words seem to snake themselves around his heart, constricting his breath away as he stares at her with a furrow in his brow. She nods once before looking back down to her lap with her hair shifting with the wind to blow behind her. "And once I learned that, I knew I didn't belong with Josh, so I broke up with him."

He feels lost, tugged in two directions; one in wanting to give anything just for his own shot at being with her and the other in not wanting to know what he'll end up doing when she does the same thing to him.

But Kate, she can only seem to picture Castle talking to Josh, reading on Josh's expression somehow that he was going to propose. And since Castle seems unwilling to lead the conversation as opposed to the usual battle for dominance that goes on between them, she looks back over to him. "He was going to propose, you know?"

Rick doesn't look back over to her, deciding it best to bite back even the potential of that heartbreak by himself. "Yeah, I know."

"Please don't tell me that's why you left, Castle." She edges on pleading. When he only meets her with silence and a furrowed brow staring off into nowhere, she pushes him again. "How'd you even know? What did he say to you, Castle?"

Rick blinks rapidly a few times, reliving the conversation with the doctor in his mind and looks back down to the grass between his hiking boots. "I'm a writer." He explains, lifting his brow. "I know how to form dialogue that lets the reader know there's something between the lines. He talked about... letting you put it all behind you so you could move on, but I could tell he didn't mean from the shooting. He wouldn't have blamed me for all of it otherwise."

Kate nods to herself, looking out to the ocean with the cold, salty air blowing in her eyes. "He meant you."

"All I said was..." he starts after her, "not to ask you while you were on painkillers. I don't know what kind of guy Josh is, but I didn't want him asking you something that important when you were on enough pain medication to put down a horse. I told him he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if you gave him anything but an honest answer."

She feels honestly thankful, but still frustrated that, if nothing else, all it did was enable Josh to drag their already doomed relationship on. But she can't pass off all the blame onto Josh. She knows she's responsible for getting together with him in the first place. All she had to do was just be honest with herself from the start, and Josh might not have ever happened. "Do you honestly think I would have said yes?"

That gains Rick's eyes again, looking back over his shoulder to her to gauge her expression. It seems to be the same calm, soft smile playing at the edges of her lips that she sat down with. "It wasn't my decision to make."

"That's not what I asked you, Castle. I asked you if you thought I would have said yes if he actually asked me to marry him." She pushes for her answer.

He hesitates to move to give her an answer as long as he can, delaying his response because he knows to answer her will force him to divulge the kind of man he feels she should be with... and he doesn't have the guts to tell her the only person he can picture her with and not have his heart fold in on itself is him. But he sees her shake her head despite herself and scoff a bit under her breath.

"I mean, I told you before what a marriage is to me." She says, recalling their brief broach on the topic. "I'm a one-and-done kind of girl, Castle. When I take my marriage vows to the guy I want to be my husband, I'll be making a promise that I won't leave him, no matter what, to spend the rest of my life with him, and to work out whatever problems we face together because I love him. Now, tell me, Castle. Did you _really _see me saying yes to Josh?"

Rick loses track of his thoughts while she speaks. He could only wish Gina, or God forbid Meredith, take the vows they took as seriously as the ones she hasn't even written yet. He could only really hope, as pointless as it was, that he wasn't lying to Jim when he said she wouldn't say yes to the wrong guy when they spoke on the phone. Rick gives her a stern nod and looks back down to the ground before throwing himself back against the bench. "I know you well enough to know you wouldn't say yes to the wrong guy."

Kate can feel her eyes crinkle as she fights her smile. "Well..." she starts, shifting her tone to seem less serious, "it wasn't Josh. So don't worry, you can insult him all you like, Castle. You won't hurt my feelings."

Her quip seems to lift his spirits a bit as his eyes crinkle with the same humor. "Believe me, I'm not going to waste any of my well-crafted insults on a guy I don't have to worry about anymore."

"You had some good ones?" She asks, a sly smirk sneaking onto her face.

"What do you think got me started on writing?" He rhetorically asks and folds his hands together on his lap.

They share a brief, under the breath, laugh and eventually fall into silence with each other. Kate can still feel her smile play at the edges of her lips, and taking a peek over to him, she can see his too, slow to leave his face as opposed to the stern brood he sat down next to her with. She doesn't pay Josh another thought, letting what sour memories she has of him wash away. She feels no closer to bringing him home, her mission she set out for in the first place. But with his soft and all too familiar smirk playing at his lips, she feels she got something back that she can only temporarily settle for.

Her partner.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the delay. Hope this makes up for it. :) _


	13. Chapter 13

The silence sours with a twinge of discomfort quickly. She remembers this feeling between them, when there were words hanging in the air looking ready to slap her in the face for not speaking them. With her hands tucked into the pockets of her tight fitting black jacket and her thin grey hoodie underneath, she only peaks over to him leaning back against the bench next to her. His soft smirk that he left gracing his healthy tanned features faded.

She has to be honest with herself. She can't stand lying to herself anymore. She has to live by the truth, not just for it, and she knows it means nothing if she can't speak it. If she allows that, she knows the only real difference made will be she's aware of the fact that she's a willful liar, instead of playing it off as just a voice of carnal lust whispering to her in the back of her mind. He deserves nothing less than her being truthful with him, brutally so if need be. He doesn't need to be lied to. If she felt as ungraceful to be as blunt as she probably needs to be, she'd just blurt the words out.

With her heart still lodged in her throat, she pricks at the inside of her lip with her teeth and decides to break the silence. "This recovery was one of the hardest things I've had to get through." She says, deciding not to hide behind her hair still blowing with the wind coming off of the high tide crashing against the cliffs below and turn to look at him. She can see her words pull what little of his soft smirk that lingers on his face from his features. "I really could've used you."

That stabs him deeply, but he's felt that jab sitting in his chest for a while, just waiting to be twisted. "I wanted to call... but-"

"But you didn't, so what difference does that make?" She pushes him, her tone getting soiled despite her attempts to keep it under control.

Rick can hear it, that she's hurt by his actions. He never likes to think about how much he truly means to people. It's good to see the headlines and the advertisements in the subway stops, to know that people read his work and get something out of it. It's good for an ego boost every once in a while, but it's easy come easy go. He never likes to go down the rabbit hole of what place he truly has in any one person's heart. It's a road to pain he hasn't learned to cope with yet. "I just felt the last thing you'd want is-"

"What, my _partner?" _Her heart forces the words out, cutting him off before she can the words.

"Is me buzzing around and sticking my nose where it doesn't belong." He answers her, feeling his body let out a violent shiver, more from the emotion than the cold wind in the air.

She lets out a shallow breath and turns to look back out to the ocean, a pinch in her brow. "You believed him, didn't you?" She asks, turning to face him again.

That finally gains her his eyes as he turns to look with the same sad furrow he's had since he's sat down. "What do you mean?"

"Josh. You believed him when he blamed you for me getting shot, didn't you?" Rick opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes and he just shakes his head and leans forward again. "I couldn't get much out of Alexis, but she did tell me that you blamed yourself for my shooting and I just want to know why?"

"Because it's my fault." He turns to her, pushing back against her.

"Castle, you were standing _right _next to me at that funeral. There's no way in hell you pulled that trigger." She only half-jokes with a roll of her eyes.

"That's not..." he starts, pushing himself upright, but decides it's pointless and decides to just let the statement fall. "I may not have pulled the trigger but I gave them the gun and told them who to point it at. I kept pushing you to look into the case when I should've known better."

Kate breathes a dark chuckle. Her heart feels too overpowered to let her mind, or his judgment, stop her now. "You really must not think that highly of me."

Rick's eyes are whipped back over to her, seeing she's glaring at him with a furrow he's supposed to be accustomed to. But her expression now has a different edge to it, a more emotional edge that stings like a poison he's not been exposed to before. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"You know, this is the same crap Josh gave me when he tried to justify telling you to leave. That he was doing it for my own good like I was some kind of _child." _Her heart starts to send a hot ache up her lungs. "I'm supposed to be more than that to you, so why the _hell _do you keep blaming yourself for _my _decision to go after my mother's killer?"

Rick's caring nature gets the best of him as he sits back up and turns into her, his hand wanting to reach for her. "Kate, if I hadn't been adamant that we investigate, if I had just known the risks, then-"

"Known the risks?" She asks over him, sighing the words out with emotional incredulity. "Castle, _none _of us knew the risks when we started investigating." Something in her feels lighter, a looseness in her chest over an aching heart, almost a freeing of the clinch in her system as she lets her heart slowly start to speak itself. Kate gets a question in her mind, a means to get him to see through to himself while still pushing for what she wants. "Why did you push me to look into my mother's murder in the first place? That day you came to my apartment after John Raglan was shot, why did you say we could do it?"

Something rises up the back of his throat but falls into just a huff of strained breath by the time he opens his mouth.

"If it was just to get some sort of writer's thrill, you sure did one hell of a job fooling me."

That sends him flying to his feet, almost sending his fist into nowhere in frustration. "I did it because I care about you!"

Her heart flutters at the first sign of the raw emotion she was digging for and stands up after him, pulling her hands out of her pockets. "And you believed in me, didn't you." She chases after it, making a statement and not asking a question.

"I-I..." he falters, turning around with a deep arch in his brow and his eyes sparkling in a way that feels new in the moment, but familiar in her memory somehow.

Kate can tell she'll have to go on for him from here and takes a small step away from the bench toward him, still separated by a distance of six feet or so. "Castle, no one else as believed in me the way you have. And even if I did start investigating because I knew you'd be there, we never would have had that fight in my apartment that afternoon, and do you want to know how I know?" She asks, teetering on demanding him as she hears her voice carry over the hills.

When Castle simply puts a hand on his waist and pace slowly toward the cliff away from her, she snaps. After the torrent she's put herself through for this man, she won't have him be the one distancing himself out of fear now.

Angrily, Kate stomps forward, reaches out, latches onto his jacket sleeve and yanks. "Would you _look _at me?!" She seethes and forces him to turn around.

She tries her best to remain strong as what she sees on his face, but she knows her determination is fading quickly at how red his eyes are. "What?" He weakly fires back, clenching his jaw and trying to harden his features as much as he can in front of her.

"Castle, I've never had anyone in my life like you." She says and feels her heart swell almost painfully under her scar. "No matter what else happened, at the end of the day, you did what you did because you care about me. And..." she trails off, looking away from him and shaking her head, "in your own twisted way... that's probably why you left. Because you figured out that Josh was going to ask me to marry him and he blamed everything that happened on you. You probably left to... I don't know, give me a chance at something I didn't even want."

All Rick can do is let his breath out as slowly, quietly, and smoothly as he can, gathering himself and fortifying himself as much as possible to remain as stoic as he can. As stoic as Jack would in this situation.

Kate lets her eyes flick away from him for a moment and takes a second to decide the best approach, tossing out a few starts in her head before looking back up at him. She still hasn't told him and she can't wait for his reaction. "Well, you should know..." she says softly, lifting her brow, "that I listened to what you had to say that afternoon."

Her eyes are shining solidly up at him, shimmering against the cloudy early afternoon of the Irish coast with a soft certainty. "What do you mean?"

She draws in a long breath and holds it for a second before letting the words form. "I walked away."

His brow pinches, his emotions being strewn making it hard to think clearly. He shakes his head in a small motion before looking back over at her. "Walked away, from what?"

Kate breathes a soft laugh and feels a light smile lift her features. "From what, from... from everything."

"You mean..." he starts hesitantly, not wanting to get his hopes up too high, "you're not investigating the case anymore?" When she answers with a silent but stern single shake of her head, he replies with a stammer and a few rapid blinks.

She can't give him all the details. In her state, trying to pry the man she loves out of this shell standing in front of her, she'd probably not do them any justice anyway. "Something happened... and it got me to question just what I want to dedicate my life to. I was forced to ask myself that if I did what I was planning on and dedicate my life to my mother's case, what then?" She asks rhetorically, softly shrugging her shoulders. "How much time will I have to sink into it before I actually get anywhere without getting myself killed in the process and..." she feels her heart twinge as the next sentence forms in her mind, "can I really ask the people I love to wait that long? I didn't want to find out, so I decided to walk away... just like you wanted."

Rick looks away and his expression falls into dolefulness. "Beckett, I never meant to say you shouldn't want justice for what happened to your mother."

"My _life_..." she stops him quickly after and takes a small step closer to him, "is more important to me now. It's too short and too fragile to think otherwise. That's what recovering from losing it has taught me, Castle. So I walked away from the investigation, I handed in my badge, and I went to f-"

"Wait, wait..." he almost chuckles her to a stop, not believing his ears. "D-did you say you handed in your badge?" He asks, narrowing his eyes and pinching his brow.

"Mmhmm," she nods. "I quit my first day back."

"You resigned from the NYPD? Beckett, that..." he shakes his head, his heart folding in three different directions inside of his chest. "Why?"

She smiles despite herself and looks down to the grass in the two-foot space between them. "It's just... like the old saying goes." She says and looks back up at him with a soft smile. "You can't go home again." She can tell he's not satisfied, so she explains the brunt of the details. "There was a new captain to deal with and... paperwork and... everyone looking at me like I was some kind of hero for getting shot. You know, I made my home in that precinct and when I went back it just... didn't feel like home anymore."

Rick slowly starts to shuffle away from her. Her career, her badge, it was everything in her life. Her purpose, her driver, what gave her a reason. She was always so dedicated to that job. He's had to drape his sport coat over her after catching her asleep in the breakroom more than once because he knew he didn't convince her well enough to go home and sleep. Her job is what brought out the best in her.

But Kate, watching his reaction, watching him slowly turn away from her and pace his way back toward the edge of the cliff in disbelief, her chest starts to sting. "Unless you were only following me around for my badge." She says darkly, making an accusation almost.

He whips back around at that. "What?"

She doesn't give him a chance before snapping again, sick of having to put her heart through the rollercoaster that's been this conversation, trying to get him to come home. "You want to know why I quit?" She demands, raising her voice again and he freezes. "Your chair."

Rick blinks a few times before craning his neck in toward her. "My chair?" He asks, honestly confused.

"The chair that sat next to my desk, _your _chair." She says, waving her hand in the air. "I'd know it anywhere. The bent leg in the back from when you tried to do that thing you saw in that music video, the fraying on the end of the right arm from when you'd pick at the stitching when you were nervous about something, the fade in the color in the left arm because you'd always be leaning toward me, that fruit striped gum on the back because you stole it out of my desk and didn't want me finding out about it." She explains. "Your chair, Castle."

Rick can only turn to face her fully again, seeing the same soft, honest shimmer in her eyes as before.

"The day I went back to work, it was gone. I didn't even sit down at my desk before I went looking for it. Once I noticed it was missing, I couldn't focus on anything else. Castle," she chuckles despite herself again, "I spent _two hours _looking all over homicide for your chair and couldn't find it. After three hours, I finally went up to narcotics... where some sloth-toed _goon... _was using it as a footrest in their breakroom. And I saw it, I-I... I just snapped. I exploded at the guy, Castle!" She exclaims, waving her arms out.

Rick's brow pinches a bit in disbelief. "Over my chair?"

"I mean," she starts, an emotional rawness coming back into her voice, "that was _your _chair, Castle! Everyone in homicide knew that was your chair that was next to my desk. Everyone knew that's where you sat, where you came in every morning and sat down next to me. That was _your _place. I'm gone for a couple weeks and they use it as a footrest? You were a part of that precinct, Castle. You may not have had a badge, but you were still a part of our family. We treated you like one of our own. You were a pallbearer at our captain's _funeral, _for god's sake! A couple weeks and they treat you like you were never there? I-it..." she trails off, feeling the chill in her eyes from the tears forming.

She can't stop now. Even if she wanted to, there's no turning back.

With slumped shoulders, she shrugs. "After I yelled at the guy upstairs, I went back down to the new captain, threw my badge down on her desk and quit. Then I went home and broke up with Josh. Then I went to find you. So..." she says, looking up at him with her eyes starting to burn and her chest starting to shiver. She needs him to be closer than he is now. "Here I am."

Rick feels his stomach knot and his chest ache. He feels two sides to himself, one telling him she quit her job because of him, and the other telling him she quit her job for him. His feet shuffle him forward through the grass toward her, but his hands feel too weak to reach out and take her's like the feel eager to. "You know I would never ask you to do that for me, Beckett."

"Castle," she laughs and rolls her eyes, "there are sixteen more hours in the day. I don't want my life revolve around what goes on in just those eight hours."

"In your defense," Rick starts with a smirk edging into his brow, "you did work a lot more than eight hours a day."

"My point is," she says firmly, taking a step ever closer to him, now separated by just a lift of her hand up to reach out to him, "getting shot changed almost everything in my life. I can't let it change you too. And I don't know where it is I'm going from here. All I know is I want your help figuring it out." Her heart quivers in her throat, her arms wanting to reach out to him and be around him again. At her words, his edge seems to dull and his presence feels closer. "And I'm not going to do it in Ireland, so... you need to come home."

Rick looks down to the grass in the small space between them, feeling the need for a courage he can't seem to find in himself at the moment. But after waiting in silence, he watches her reach over the small distance she needs to take his hands in her's and hold them in front of each other, gaining his eyes back. His hands tingle, remembering the softness of her skin but still not used to its touch. When he looks over to her, she's looking at him with that same soft, confident glimmer in her hazel eyes.

"Let's go home, okay?" She says, giving his hands a light squeeze. When he doesn't respond right away, she tries again. "Okay?"

His thumb grazes over the bones in her hand and he takes in a long breath. _Look for answers, Richard, not excuses. _Singapore, Tokyo, Italy, Rome, Ireland, they were all excuses. His answer, he knows now, is standing in front of him. "Let's go home."


	14. Chapter 14

The plane shakes and bumps a few times, but it does little to disturb the other passengers. Still over the Atlantic in pitch darkness, Kate flips over the last page in reverence at his story. She becomes aware of the smile gracing her face when she flips the back cover over and closes the book in her hands. She takes a glance over to her right and sees he's still fast asleep. She only pulled the book out after he fell asleep during the movie. She thought the plane showing Heat Wave would be good for a laugh between the two, and for a bit, it was. Seeing Natalie Rhodes try to play a poor imitation of her was funny for a chuckle over nostalgia from their times as crime fighters.

But he fell asleep about two hours ago and hasn't even stirred, still resting his head on the far side of his seat, leaning away from her. She doesn't want to disturb him. He looks too handsomely content in his slumber, like his body has an invitation nailed to the front intended for her to just lean over and lean against him.

She'd love to talk to him though. The ending of Heat Rises got to her, and she feels she needs some solid reassurance that he really was sticking around for her, that she was what kept him around and interested all these years and not her badge.

Nikki turning down a promotion after her captain dies so she could stay in the field because she knew that's where she belonged... it made Kate's throat close. Nikki knew where she belonged, what it was she was meant to do and she stuck with it. Nikki Heat had the strength to know that a field detective is what she was made to do and was strong enough to keep at it. Castle wrote Nikki based on her. He saw that strength, drew on her to portray that strength in his books to form a convincing character in Nikki Heat. But if she doesn't have it, what does that mean?

Maybe it's all a reminder of just how special their time in the field together was to him. While she loved fulfilling the duty of putting the people who rob others of their mothers and fathers, of their sons and daughters, he loved the thrill of the mystery and the excitement of breaking open wide a case that no one else could figure out. Now, with that veil of just being partners gone with her quitting her job... can they still have that chemistry Lanie was always so adamant they had together?

Was she wrong on some level and the only way they can work as a couple is at the precinct? She walked away from it to be with him, but what if the only place they can work is where she left from to get him in the first place?

The plane jolts again in another bounce of turbulence and she decides to use it as a litmus test of sorts, seeing how deep his sleep really is. When all that happens is his head rolling a few times with the place, she makes the decision to test the waters of all her doubts and let her eyes drift shut. Her head quickly becomes listless and within moments, her head is relaxing softly down to his shoulder. There's a moment of thick tension in her body when she waits to feel him shake her off, unwanted.

But when he doesn't, she takes it as an acceptance of her presence on him and relaxes completely down onto his shoulder.

* * *

"You know, Beckett," Rick starts as he pulls both their bags from the cab's trunk, waiting for her to come around to him from the other side to continue, "you could've told me you were staying here."

Kate smiles bashfully and brushes her hair behind her ear and drawing in a long breath of the chilly fog rolling through the city. _Truth, Kate, don't play it off, _she corrects the words formed on her tongue. "I was afraid of how you'd feel about it." She tells him as he pulls out her duffle bag and hooks it onto his left shoulder with his own bag on his right.

He looks over to her with one side of his brow raised slightly higher than the other and stares at her for a moment with his hand on the trunk ready to shut it. "Afraid?"

She blinks and looks down to the street. "Yeah, I mean, I'm what drove you away." She shrugs her shoulders meagerly. "And besides, your mother didn't exactly give me a chance to really refuse her offer to stay here when I told her I was out of a job."

Rick feels a warm smile sneak onto his face as he closes the trunk of the taxi. "She can be a bit pushy when she wants to be." He says, his heart swelling and his veins starting to tingle with excitement at finally getting to see them again. "Or always."

Kate's face engulfs in a smile as she bites back her laughter. "Come on," she says and takes a step forward, pulling on the strap of her duffle bag to steal it from him and put it on her own shoulder.

It's a chilly Sunday morning in the Soho area, with a cold, humid fog rolling through the city. It's colder than usual for the time in late September, but it's refreshing. Rick's senses are still getting used to the smell of being back in the city. The past few months, after he ended his trotting in Asia and moved to the Mediterranean, he's stuck to open spaces and quiet destinations like Doolin. But he's too excited to be home to let the city bother him now. So with a reserved smile as she steals his chance at being a gentleman by letting him carrying her bag up for her, he makes his way into the building.

Kate decides to trail behind him by a few large paces once they step off the elevator and into the hallway. She can tell he's excited to see Alexis and doesn't want to invade on the memory by being in the way. She doesn't want to make this time about herself. She made a promise to the teen to get her dad back, knowing what it's like to lose a father to himself. She's not going to make any illusions about why she went after him though, why she didn't use Alexis when trying to convince him to come home.

Hanging back a few steps behind him, she watches as he hesitates for only a second in front of the door to the loft before opening it.

Rick's heart flutters as he opens the door to his home and steps inside. After more than two months away, running from everything out of his own cowardice that he wasn't strong enough to just admit to, coming home is a fulfilling feeling that's making his stomach tangle in on itself almost joyously and a swarm of butterflies to erupt up and down his spine. Rick paces his way into the foyer just a few slow steps, roving his eyes over the space of the loft, his mental flipbook going through all the memories had in this place, the best and the worst.

He pushes out a content sigh through his nostrils and lets his fluttering heart rest a moment, drawing him back to rest right at home, feeling whole for a moment.

His sensitive ears perk at the sound of a creak on the other side of the loft, coming from his office. "Dad?"

The happy, unbelieving sound of his little girl's voice brings the butterflies right back as he decides to joke with her a bit and play it off, looking over to her with a soft smile. "Have I really been gone that long that you forget what I look like?" He jokes, opening his arms up to her.

"_Daddy!" _She cries and comes darting through the living room.

Kate watches from the emotional safety of just outside the door, still standing in the hallway, as Rick drops his shoulder bag to the floor. Just seconds after, Alexis flying forward and jumps into her dad's arms, letting him wrap his arms around her waist and lift her up joyously. "Oh," she can hear Rick say as he hugs his daughter, "I missed you, pumpkin."

"I missed you too, Dad." Alexis says and opens her teary eyes, looking over Rick's shoulder and over at Kate, who's watching the scene unfold with a tender heart, feeling pulled into the moment by the teen looking over to her. With the teen's eyes on her, there's a moment when she fears the girl is looking at her and heaping blame onto her. The woman standing in the doorway is the reason Alexis had to go through all this after all. But Alexis seems to dispell those fears by giving Kate a thankful smile and tightening her arms around Rick.

Rick sets his daughter back down but doesn't let her out of his arms. "And don't worry, I got you something."

"Dad," she smiles and shakes her head.

It's then that another voice comes calling from the top of the stairs. "Oh, Richard!"

Rick doesn't let Alexis out of his grip and simply switches to keeping her pinned into his side as Martha comes down the stairs as quickly as her age can let her. "Hi, mother."

Martha comes quickly up to her son, gently grabbing his face and placing a loving kiss to his cheek before hugging him while Rick keeps his daughter held in his side. Kate watches from the doorway, a warmth in her heart at the love radiating from the family. She misses that family love in her life. She loves spending time with her dad, but they both silently decided not to fool themselves into thinking they could be the family they were before her mother died. She's never really given any serious thought to starting a family of her own. She always thought that if it happened, it would happen and she would have to figure out a way to do it and work it around her job.

But she gave up her job. And now she's here.

Martha laughs happily as she shakes her son's shoulders from side to side. "Oh, Richard, it is so good to see you home." Rick simply nods his head as his mother steps back, knowing she has some sort of lecture kept in her pocket for just this moment. "I just _knew _when Katherine came to us that things would make a turn for the better."

Having her presence announced, Kate feels her heart skip a beat from her place with her arms crossed, leaning against the door jam of the entry into the loft. With what his mother just said, he turns, with his family still hanging from his arms and looks over to his shoulder to see her and smile in almost reverence. Kate feels herself blush as all eyes turn to her. "She does seem to have that effect on people." Rick says with his eyes looking as deeply as he can from his place some six feet away.

Kate chuckles despite herself and nods as a means to look down to the floor. "Well," she starts, guessing her reply is what the three are waiting for, "it's been my job to give people bad news. I thought I'd try my hand at giving them some good news for a change."

* * *

The day goes by with Rick doing nothing else than enjoying the company of his family, telling them the few stories that he brought back with him.

It's late in the night and Rick is being his usual alpha self as he turns about the kitchen, a kitchen knife in one hand and a slew of produce strewn about the large amount of counter space the loft offers. The steam and heat are rising from the large cast iron skillet taking up two burners on the stove. The scent of the food is encasing the loft in a feeling it hasn't held in its walls in a long time. Even before he left. But he's probably the only one picking up on it, and even then, it's probably just his foolish heart clamoring for something that he's dreamt of for a long time.

She'd just be so great here. She just fits with his family... with him.

Kate is still hanging back, sitting in a chair at the dining table with his mother while Alexis sits at the island on a stool watching her dad prepare dinner. "Here," Rick says with an excited smirk as he grabs for an onion and the oil, "I saw them do this in Tokyo."

Rick slices the onion in rings and builds the tower just as he remembers carefully with his knife and tries his best to do the simple trick he saw after going after a simple, unsatisfying meal in his wandering aimlessly the streets of Tokyo. After a splash of water, the steam blows off the skillet and out of the hole on the top made by the onions.

"Dad," Alexis says, watching her dad entertain mostly himself, "we have hibachi here in New York too, you know."

"Yes, but the cooks over there were a lot nicer." Rick defends his antics to his daughter. "And besides," Rick says, pointing the end of the knife at her, "are you really going to give me grief when I'm cooking for you again? I saw all those take-out containers in the trash."

"Kate had that covered already, Dad." Alexis says with a smirk and a wag of her brow.

Playing along, Rick looks over to the dining table, where Kate sits with a small goblet of wine she snuck for herself while he and Alexis were at the store. Kate smiles teasingly over to Rick, flicking one of her brows at him. "She did?"

"Yeah, she made this spicy meatloaf the other night what was really good." Alexis almost brags.

Kate looks away from the admiring eyes of her partner and takes up her wine glass. "I've got to say, Beckett, I never pictured you to be the homemaking type."

She chuckles softly and stands up from sitting sideways in her chair and takes a sip of her wine, taking it as a cue to join the two of them in the kitchen. "Just before I left for Stanford, my mom spent the summer teaching me some simple family recipes that her mother taught her." Rick absent mindedly slices the vegetables up on the skillet as Kate slowly paces her way into the kitchen and stops a few feet away from him. "I know my way around a kitchen, Castle."

"This coming from the woman who's eaten the stale donuts from the kitchen because you had to spend the night staring at the murder board and didn't want to go home?" Rick fires at her, a grin on his face as he grabs a bottle of soy sauce.

"For your information," Kate starts, leaning one hand against the island next to him and leaning toward him with her brow raised, "I'd microwave them. Good as new."

"And yet," Rick lifts his finger in the air, "not any healthier."

"Coming from the guy who just spent two months in half the world's times zones, I don't think you're in any position to talk about healthy eating habits." She jabs back, picking at his loose-fitting grey t-shirt underneath his army green cargo jacket he never bothered to take off and simply decided to roll up the sleeves of.

"She's right, Richard." His mother affirms from behind him, fluttering about the kitchen and cleaning up the mess her son is making by cooking dinner. "You look positively starved." Martha says, coming to stand on the opposite of Rick that Kate is at and takes his arm in her hands. "And- ugh..." Martha scoffs as she looks up at her son's hair. "What on Earth possessed you to do this to your hair, Richard?" She asks, running her fingers aggressively and disapprovingly through his new roughish style short hair cut he got just before he left.

Part of his disguise and a new persona to drift into as Alex Rodgers.

After picking at a few hairs on the side of his head with her fingers, Rick reaches up and scratches his head vigorously with his fingers, seemingly getting rid of her touch. "It was summer." He explains in a light tone.

The four of them fall into silence as Rick's attention goes back to preparing dinner, while Kate's attention remains glued to him. In truth, she likes his hair, if nothing else because she always wanted to give his hair that look on her own. She can admit to herself that she's daydreamed in the past of messing up his usually clean and combed hair, letting him go after a fitful and aggressive kiss that left him with unruly hair like he has now, dazed eyes and puffy lips. At the fantasy, her bottom lip is snatched by her teeth and she feels her stomach twist.

"Did you uh..." Rick starts, unaware of him being the object of a trance from just a few feet away as he turns to grab the cutting board with the cuts of meat already prepared, "did you want chicken or steak, Beckett?"

When he turns for his answer and sees her looking straight at him, he catches a twinkle in her eye that he can't ignore. Either she's not hiding it, or she's aware she's doing a terrible job at it. He can't say he hasn't seen that sparkle in her eye before, but it's never been this unreserved. He wishes he knew where they stood, wishes more than anything. He's learned over the years never to assume anything when it comes to her, but there's an invitation calling to him from that bottom lip in between her teeth that he wants to answer.

"U-uhm..." she corrects herself after their eyes catch, but doesn't shake her head as a means to break the gaze as she normally would, instead just decides to answer him, "chicken. Chicken is fine."

Rick gives her a soft nod, but hesitates taking her answer. "You can have steak if you want it, Beckett." He says, waving at the plate of uncooked meat with his knife, only looking away from her for a split second before returning himself to the trance. "There's plenty."

She lets her twisting stomach move up to her heart and feels it swell in her chest, but fights the smile it brings. "Medium rare?"

"Of course," he smiles at her softly and hesitates to end the interaction by keeping the moment with his eyes on her's.

She loses the fight with her smile for a moment and lets it overtake her features. "Thank you."

With that, he shakes his head in the smallest motion, only detectable to her. "No," he says, taking a piece of cooked onion from the skillet with a fork and handing it to her to taste. She's the reason he's having all this. If not for her, he'd still be in Ireland... or where ever he would have decided to go next after Jack abandoned him again. "Thank you."

* * *

_A/N: If this feels like a bit of a filler chapter, I apologize. I couldn't just go straight into the next scene. You'll understand when you read it. Eager to start the next chatper though. C: _

_Also, wanted to say a HUGE thank you to you guys. Went through some old stories to compare, and this story got to 400 reviews at only 12 chapters! My record before that is 400 at 15 chapters with my story Reaching. Keep them coming and let me know what you think! Next chapter is going to be amazing! _


	15. Chapter 15

He can't sleep, but hasn't really tried either. He doesn't want to say he's meditating, but can't think of another way to put it.

It's peaking the middle of the night and the rest of the loft is asleep and quiet. All the lights are out, all devices are turned off, all doors are shut and locked aside from the one into his bedroom. His shoulderbag is still sitting at the foot of his dresser, only opened to dig out the one thing left behind for Jack to remember him by. His burgundy cloth covered copy of King Lear now sits on his nightstand next to the alarm clock. He was going to read it, but doesn't have the motivation. He knows the story.

He's been standing at the window on the opposite side near the arm chair, in the dark, for some time now. Clad in a thin pale blue shirt that clings to his shoulders, but is loose around the abdomen, and a pair of dark blue flannel pants dug out of his dresser, he listens to his thoughts in complete silence with his arms folded, holding onto his triceps and breathing as steadily as he can, mindful even of the deepness of each inhale. The bed is still made and the taste of his toothpaste has faded from his tongue.

His phone is still hiding in one of the drawers in his office, still shut off from when he turned it off and left. He disposed of the phone he bought in Europe before he left Ireland. His phone is the last thing he wants to attend to, if ever. The never-ending slew of unheard voicemails that are sure to be waiting for him aren't exactly a daunting task, just annoying and not really necessary.

Today seemed to be just what he needed. Time spent enjoying his daughter, being with his family, even being around Beckett was easier than he thought it was with everything being unspoken of between them. She went up to bed just after Alexis did, which was pretty early in the night for her considering Alexis has been rigid about going to bed by ten on her own since her pre-teens on school nights. But he's wide awake and hasn't bothered to check what time it is because it doesn't really matter.

No one in the loft, or in the world, knows about Jack. He never mentioned it to anyone. He had intended to bring it up when he went to give Alexis his copy of Meditations, but when he found it wasn't in his bag, he decided to just make a note to order another copy. He's lost a few articles of clothing and a few disposable toothbrushes in his haste to pack on his trip.

He's still fighting with himself on whether or not to tell anyone about Jack at all. Alexis never asked what kept him in Doolin longer than anywhere else. Kate didn't ask why Alexis made it as easy as it was to track him down there, why he stayed so long. His mother either isn't bothering asking him about why he left, or is holding off until she feels he's settled in back at home and is back in the swing of things to give him a motherly lecture. The only reason he feels he should tell anyone at all is out of obligation.

But he also knows that it would be pointless to tell them about Jack when they would have no hope of ever getting to know him, let alone see him with their own eyes.

He can't help but hate himself for ever meeting that man though. He hates himself for trusting him, for giving into his unsatisfied boyhood need for a father. Because he did trust Jack, maybe even emotionally. He put his trust in that man, father or not, and just when he did that, he left. And Rick hates himself for putting himself in that position in the first place. After everything he told Jack about him and Kate, every important case and suspect caught, everything about Tyson and the guilt harbored for letting him escape, everything about Montgomery and Beckett's mother... he went over all of it and how it affected him.

'_Richard, put yourself in the shooter's position.' _Jack's words ring in his ears, his skin flushing with clamminess as his shoved back into the conversation. '_You're contracted to kill a trained police detective, what's the best place to do it?' _

If they weren't after her, what were they after? If they wanted to send a warning to someone, that they could get to anybody at any time, that no body was safe, who was that someone? Who was the warning for? And if she wasn't the real target, why did Montgomery have to die to protect her? Why were they after her if she wasn't the real target? Was it just by some grace of God that she actually survived that sniper or was their intention to let her live?

Jack would know. He's been in that world, lived in that world. Rick isn't equipped for it. All he does is write about it.

"Hi."

A soft, scratchy voice coming from the doorway breaks him out of his thoughts in a flash.

He whips around quickly, unfolding his arms as he does, and sees a distinct figure standing in his doorway, shadows making her features invisible. She's just standing there, her hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face, her shirt baggy and loose over her tall, slender frame, and her flannel pajama bottoms rolling over her feet and lumping up at the ends, with an object he can't make out hanging from her right hand.

"Hey," he replies back in a light, inviting tone as he turns to face her. "What's up?" He asks, trying to be casual, even though there's nothing casual about the situation.

Kate shuffles forward a step and doesn't reply.

"Is there something wrong?" He gently asks her, taking a few slow steps toward the end of the still made bed.

Kate stops at the foot of his bed and shakes her head. "No, just..." Kate bites down on her tongue, her heart palpitating with nerves under her empty lungs. _Be honest, just tell him, _she berates herself. "I just couldn't sleep is all." She says with a twinge of self-harm, not wanting it to be at all what left her mouth.

All Rick can reply with is a soft, casual chuckle under his breath as he slowly rounds the corner of the bed to stand in front of her.

Kate reaches up with her free left hand and brushes her hair back on the opposite side of her face, taking a look over the bed. "You too?"

Rick nods, "Yeah, my sleep schedule is a bit haywire right now with all the traveling, that's all." He lies. She replies with a soft, casual chuckle of her own and smiles in the darkness of his bedroom, squeezing Sherlock's arm nervously at her side. When she doesn't look back up to meet his eye line, she feels her heart squeeze inside of her throat at the uncomfortable silence, knowing she hasn't said what she meant to say. But Rick, with wandering eyes, catches sight of what's hanging by her right hand. "What's this?"

Rick reaches down and takes the stuffed animals torso in his hands and pulls the bear into view. When Rick realizes what it is she brought with her, his chest ignites with a swarm of violent butterflies and his mind is awash with amazement, almost bordering on disbelief.

He completely forgot he'd bought this thing. Kate lets him take Sherlock in his hand as he looks it over. "You still have this thing?" He asks with a smile splitting his face apart.

She lets her own smile overtake her as she reaches up and pets Sherlock's hat. "Of course I still have him, Castle."

He remembers now what he said. Flowers wilt and die and after a few weeks, all your left with is compost to deal with. Some 'get well' gift, he remembers thinking as he bought this bear. He never bought it with the intention of giving her something to go to bed with or anything. In truth, all he wanted was a laugh and he figured a teddybear dressed up as Sherlock Holmes would get him what he was after... and it did, after all.

Rick reaches over and pinches the bear's hand. '_How do I..." _the bear starts speaking and he quickly remembers what he recorded, '_wait, like now? Check one, is it... hello?' _

He can see her warm smile radiate off her features, even in the dark, as the bear speaks. Rick holds the bear gently in his hands. "Sherlock here got me through some rough times during my recovery." She says, earning her Rick's eyes again as he gingerly holds Sherlock in his hands.

"I uh..." he tries, "I never did figure out how to record the message over."

She chuckles a little more firmly than last time as she lifts her hand to him. "It's okay, Castle. It's uh... it's very you."

Rick nods again and looks back down to the bear, letting him dip a bit in between them.

_Tell him, Kate. If you coward out now, tomorrow it will be even harder. _With a seizing heart, she takes an unsatisfying breath and hardens her tingling spine as much as she can. "Castle, I wanted to spend the night." She blurts out in a firm voice.

Rick's eyes fly back up over the bear to look over at her. She's looking straight at him and even in the almost pitch blackness of his bedroom, he can see her hazel eyes dilate with the light coming in off the street, her brow arched softly in a soft desperation of his answer.

"Down here, I..." she continues to explain, "I couldn't get to sleep, so I thought I'd... you know." She trails off and silently mines her hand sliding forward in front of her. "And I was _hoping..." _she continues with her eyes now on the floor, "that you'd already be asleep so I could just... slip in without you noticing and..."

"And..." he continues for her, "hope you wake up before me?"

"I know it wasn't the best plan, Castle, but I-I-"

Rick chuckles softheartedly and gives her a soft nod. "You know that sounds like something I would do if I didn't think you'd shoot me."

"Well, I do still have my backup piece, but I don't think I'd shoot you for that, Castle."

They share another soft laugh with each other and let the topic hang in the air for a moment. In the silence, his eyes dart over her shoulder and catch something. With her infectious presence, her aura emanating from her, he sets the bear down on the foot of his bed gently and decides to take some of Jack's advice. When his hand leaves the bear, Rick quickly reaches over and takes her hand, softly grabbing her other to hold both of her hands in his in front of them, grasping her hands gently on top of his.

Kate's heart skips at the contact and doesn't beat normally after as she looks up to him for an answer as to what he's doing, what game he's playing. He's never been this direct and forward with her before. But now, he just took her hands softly in hers just as she did on the windy Cliffs of Moher. His eyes are still down to the floor, but his face is lifted into a light, casual open smile.

Before he looks up at her, his eyes catch sight of the book Jack left him, the one thing to remember him by. When he does, it only takes a second to look over to her. "Did you know I was in King Lear in high school?"

His question is asked just as he normally would ask her a question like this at the precinct; with a light, casual, class-clown tone and a waggle of his brow. "Huh?"

Rick smirks again, "I played the fool."

Kate's face lights up with a smile as she bites back a laugh. After a fit of swallowing her laughter, she looks back up at him with her hands still sitting in his, "Fitting, somehow, Castle."

Rick brushes his thumbs over the bones in the back of her hand and takes a brief pause. "You ever seen King Lear?"

Her hands tingle and her heart gallops violently in her chest, her scars aching at the feeling, but she answers. "I've read it." She wants to be straight with him, and she wishes he would give her the same courtesy.

Rick gives her a nod and looks down to their hands, taking in as much of the feeling of her skin as he can. "Can you tell me the story?"

Kate breathes a long sigh, "Rick, I really wish you'd just be straight with me for once."

"I am being straight with you." He says in a soft, gentle confidence, catching her off guard, looking her in the eye with a calm reverence. "I just want to hear the story."

Kate nods, deciding to play along, if it means being here with him. "The king is ready to retire his throne to his three daughters... and so he divides his kingdom into three parts, deciding to give the largest portion to the daughter who expresses their love for him the most."

Rick nods and continues to pet the back of her hands with his thumb in a gentle circle as she speaks.

"The first daughter goes up, and she says she loves him more than the whole world." She says, getting a flash of Demming in her mind. "The second daughter goes up and says," her breath catches again, "that she loves him even more than that." She continues, now getting a flash of Josh and she decides to admit to herself why he got her to tell this story. "Then the third daughter came up... his favorite... and she was direct with him, and honest..." she explains with a closing throat, looking back up at him and his soft eyes, "and told the king the truth."

Rick gives her hands a soft squeeze, "And what happened to her?"

Kate swallows thickly, her eyes starting to burn. All she can think of is him standing in the middle of her apartment that horrible afternoon, telling her she was doing nothing more than hiding... from the truth, from him. "The king disowned her for it, and banished her from the kingdom."

Rick gives her a solemn nod and knows she's starting to draw the parallels. "And once the other two got what they wanted out of the king, they threw him out on the street... and he learned that they didn't really love him after all and only cared for themselves." Rick continues ahead of her. "And despite being disowned by the king and thrown from the kingdom, when the third daughter learns of the king's fate-"

"She comes back to save him." She finishes for him. It's then that Kate's heart breaks, seeing Rick standing in the hangar, despite everything she said to him, despite being tossed from her life, despite her ending their partnership that afternoon and saying she never wanted to see him again... he was still there.

"Because she wasn't lying when she said she cared about him." Rick can see a track of a tear scarring her face in the low light of the bedroom, her hands starting to shake in his grasp. "And the king only learns the truth that she was honest with him because she was the only one that loved him as he laid dying in her arms. The king realized that she told him what he needed to hear that day because she loved him... and when the king realized he disowned the one person in his life that loved him the most... he died in her arms."

Kate blinks at her tears and shakes her head. "See? It doesn't apply to us, because I've already done that part and we haven't fixed anything yet."

At her wit, Rick's face splits into a smile and he starts to silently laugh, leaning forward as he chuckles with her. "Morbid, even for you, Detective."

Kate shakes her head in a small motion as she looks up to him with a gentle smile, giving his hands a squeeze. "I gave up my badge, remember? It's uh... it's just Kate."

When Rick ends his nod and looks back over to her, meeting her eyes, his heart burns. She's looking straight at him with those big, hazel eyes, her lashes stained with tears and her wants worn on her sleeve.

In the same moment, they each take a step forward and lean in, giving each other's lips to the other in a firm kiss. The instant their lips seal against each other, they each draw in a long breath, filling their lungs up with cool air as their systems lock, their hands squeezing each other tighter and tighter with every passing second their lips sit kissing the other. With their own swarm of butterflies in the stomach and a twinge in their spine, Kate presses up on her toes to kiss him deeper and Rick leans down to do the same.

After a very long moment, the kiss ends all too slowly, their lips brushing against each other as they stop the kiss, their foreheads now pressed against each other.

The decision is made by both of them in that moment and Kate takes the last step and presses her body against him and takes his lips back, her heart aching painfully with unsatisfied longing and unrequited love that she's never felt before in her life. Rick kisses her as passionately as he can, moving her head with his lips to deepen the kiss as he folds their hands together, their arms now pressed in between their bodies. Kate lets out a guttural moan that aches with longing as she lets his hands go and takes ahold of his face, kissing him again.

For such a long time, he's wanted this. He's wanted to feel her, to hold her, to kiss her. And for just as long, he's felt all the work he's done on himself and all the emotional torment he's had to suffer would be all for nothing, all wasted effort. But with his lips, he leans down and kisses her as passionately as he can again, venting out as much of it as he can with her velvety lips and the softness of her touch on his face.

His hands grasp her waist strongly and tug her body against him and she doesn't pause to take a breath, only sucks in the air needed passed his lips as she opens her mouth to kiss him even deeper. Experiencing him now, it's only now that she realizes just how much she's wanted this all this time. It's making her impatient.

When his thumbs pet the bottom of her ribcage and move to wrap around her, she lets his face go and grabs onto the bottom of his shirt and pushes it up his chest, only yanking her lips off of him when she needs to pull his shirt off his body. She doesn't take the time to admire his naked torso and instead falls into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again, her hand burying itself in his hair.

And at the feeling, something in his heart is tugging at him, and he's giving her waist a gentle squeeze. "Mmm," he moans against her lips, "wait."

She lets him pull her off of his lips but doesn't move her arms out from around him. Rick looks over to her, he can see her pupils dilated, her eyes hazy and her lips already puffed and swollen at the force of their kissing.

"Are you sure about this? Because..." he hesitates, "I don't want you to think that this is going to be meaningless to me, I want it to-"

Kate stops him by gently cupping his face, looking him dead in the eye, and slowly leaning forward, capturing his lips in a soft but firm kiss, not lit by fervor, want, and lust, but tempered by reassurance and meaning as she takes his lips for herself. After a few long seconds, her hands press against his bare chest, both of them tingling at the contact, and she pushes him over and down to the bed. Rick reaches behind himself and pulls out the bedding as they crawl up the bed, their lips never parting. Once there, Rick lays down in the center of the bed and lays his head down, feeling Kate lay herself on top of him, pulling the sheets over them with her hand.

His breath is latched onto his lungs in nervousness as she continues to kiss him slowly. But his hands are slowly moving up her waist, going under her shirt, his palms drawn in by the heat of her soft skin.

His hands slide up her sides greedily in a way that earns him a moan let loose into his mouth as they kiss. But as his palms slide over her, it's not too long before he feels a long jagged line of skin on her left side. With a gasp of fright, his hands fly off of her and he stops kissing her in shock.

But the instant she feels his hands leave her, she latches onto his forearm and pull his hand back, putting her other hand on top of the hand over her scar, putting as much pressure on his hand as she can manage, her nails digging angrily into his forearm and her weight supported by her leaning against his forehead.

She can feel his hand wanting to rip itself off of her, but she won't let him. She will not have him afraid to touch her. She won't let it haunt him anymore. She can hear his ragged breath hesitate to slow down as she keeps his hand pressed into her surgical scar on her left side. After a long moment of her nails still digging into his forearm in frustration, his hand seems to relax against her and she can feel his thumb start to gently pet the line of the scar.

"I'm not broken anymore, Rick." She whispers against his lips. "And I didn't break because of anything you did. So please," she pleads against his lips, rubbing her nose together with his as she pushes his hand against her scar, "please, don't be afraid to touch me."

Rick sighs softly and leans up, capturing her lips again. Kate lets out a small, emotional moan as she gives her lips back to him and at the sound of it, his arms engulf her, his left hand burying itself in her hand and his right on the dip of her spine. His nerves still jumping, he presses up and rolls them over, guiding her head down to the pillow with his hand.

The second she's on her back underneath him, his hand supporting her head and the other on her shoulder with him hovering above her, her entire body floods with a sickening feeling that draws her from her passion and her mind is ripped from the moment, a stomach-churning feeling of deja vu flooding over every part of her. With a shuttering breath, she pulls away from him as her scars, her whole body, start to remember the memory of being engulfed in pain and agony.

Rick senses it and immediately pulls away. "What's wrong?" He asks in a scared voice above her.

But all she answers with is her hands latching onto his face again and pulling him down, wanting him to take the feeling away and not wanting to show him her eyes flooding with tears at the pain she's reliving.

She kisses him only once before she guides his lips down her jaw line and onto her neck, encouraging him to deepen every motion with one hand in his hair, fisting and pulling at it, and the other draped over his shoulders to keep his weight pressed down on top of her.

She hides her tears away from his eyes as he kisses her neck, keeping his lips pinned onto her neck with her hand.

Why is she having the memory of this pain now? Why does this burn feel so familiar... and why him? Why is the most important moment in her time with the man she loves being tainted with this amount of paralyzing pain? She tries her hardest to swallow the sob that's rising up her throat and to blink away the tears burning in her eyes as she looks up at the ceiling. Her heart is pounding violently in her chest, making her bullet scar sting even more as his hands latch onto her thighs and pull at them.

She can't have this pain now. Not now. Not when she's finally with the man she loves. Of all times, when for the first time in her life, she's not doing this in a petty attempt to make an emotional connection, but to fulfill one.

She pushed him down to bed and pulled the covers over the two of them to fulfill an emotional connection. She didn't start this to give herself a reason to stay in a relationship or to convince herself that there were feelings there when there really weren't. This wasn't meant as some weakness to lust, some animalistic need to have an itch scratched, or fooling herself into thinking she can have the physical action and push away the emotional need that it calls for. She started this because she loves him. She wanted to be with him because she's in love with him.

She can't lose this.

So, with her body still sickened with the burn of a violent pain in her veins and her eyes littered with hot tears, she lets out a breath and gives his body a tender squeeze with her arms. With his lips still caressing her neck, she latches onto his shoulder with her hand not in his hair and leans up, kissing any part of him she can reach.

* * *

_A/N: Another chapter that got me started on this story. Hope you liked it. :) _


	16. Chapter 16

"Yo!" Ryan hears his partner call from the other side of the bullpen.

Ryan looks up from his paperwork, a donut sitting on a paper towel acting as a paperweight, and grabs his coffee mug. "Hey." He offers a simple greeting as Esposito struts up in his usual bravado fashion. Ryan drinks some of the luke warm coffee in his mug and Esposito sits down in the chair next to his desk with a sigh.

"You heard yet?" Espo asks and yanks his foot up to cross his legs casually.

"About Beckett's replacement?" He asks, nodding toward the cleared out desk in front of Esposito's. Esposito just nods and raises his brow. "Yeah, heard they went with an outsider."

"Mmhmm," Esposito hums and leans back further in his chair. "Some hot shot from up in Boston. He's supposed to be some kind of all-star."

Ryan shakes his head with a twinge of nervousness in his throat as he sets his mug down and grabs his donut. "Just feels weird, you know?" He asks, shrugging his shoulders and taking a look up to Beckett's desk again. "I mean, Beckett was lead detective when I transferred to homicide. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel taking orders from an outsider."

"Taking orders?" Esposito says, a tone of impatience and surprise seeping into his voice.

Ryan waves his glazed donut in the air in front of him and nods over to the captain's office. "Rumor going around is that Gates is making the new guy lead detective."

"Man!" Espo cries in frustration and pointlessly adjusts himself in the chair. "Just what we need, another hard-liner walking around thinking we wouldn't know how to get dressed in the morning if he doesn't tell us how."

'Yeah," Ryan chuckles as he swallows his breakfast. "So uh... you heard from Beckett?" He asks, nodding at her desk again.

Espo raises his brow, his expression quickly melting out of the scowl, "Lanie went over there the day she walked out, but she hasn't heard anything since."

"Hmm," Ryan hums and looks back down to his paperwork and picks up his mug again. He's always been wary of poking his nose into another person's personal business, especially a woman's personal business. Growing up with four older sisters taught him better. He's tried his best to stay out of the rumor and gossip mill as best he can while still maintaining his part of the pack, but it gets hard and has only gotten harder since Beckett left. "Any idea what got her to quit yet?"

But Espo, having danced around the issue for too long, simply looks over to his partner with an obvious purse of his lips. "Bro," he says, waiting for Ryan to look over to him with his mug raised. "Come on, we all know how they felt about each other."

Ryan looks around the mostly quiet bullpen without moving his head and keeps his mug to his face. "I thought that was a secret." Esposito lets out a hard chuckle through his teeth and shakes his head. "You think she quit because of Castle?"

"Do you see either of them here right now?" Esposito asks, a rhetorical and obvious question. "Word's all over the precinct about how she went off on your boy from narcotics over his chair."

"Yeah, but I got it back." Ryan nods over to the chair sitting next to Beckett's desk where it's supposed to be. "And what about Castle? No one's heard from him since Beckett woke up."

"Lanie thinks it has something to do with the shooting."

"I thought she said she didn't remember anything."

"Ryan, let me ask you something." Esposito starts and nods his head toward his partner. "If you knew Jenny was dying and you knew you could only tell her one thing, what would it be?"

"That I..." he trails off, his words falling as pieces start to click. Ryan looks over to Esposito with his mouth agape. "You think that Castle-"

"That's what Lanie thinks." Esposito says, raising his hands up in defense. "She thinks Castle left because Beckett couldn't remember and he took it as an out to save himself. So when Beckett came back and Castle wasn't here, she couldn't figure out why and she flipped."

Ryan thinks silently before he leans back in his chair and shakes his head to himself. "Man," Ryan says and pulls himself back up to his paperwork, "Castle was like the big brother I never had."

"I feel you, bro."

"Detectives?" Their captain calls from the doorway to her office, and they each look up, Esposito turning around, listening intently to their boss. "A body just dropped in midtown, dispatch is sending you the address now."

Both Ryan and Esposito are up out of their chairs, Ryan grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair as he stands. "On it, Sir."

"Also, our newest detective will be meeting you at the crime scene. They were supposed to meet here to get settled in, but Detective Sharpe wants to get right to work and will meet you at the scene instead."

"Right, Sir." Esposito says to his superior and quickly catches up with Ryan, who's looking for the address from dispatch. "I can see our newest addition is already kissing ass."

"Be nice, Esposito." Ryan mutters under his breath as they near the elevator. "I don't need you getting both of us off on the wrong foot with the guy, okay?"

* * *

Rick feels himself slowly being drawn from his deep sleep, but the satisfaction of sleeping is slow to give itself up and he soon lets the heaviness in his eyes win and adjusts his head on the pillow, tightening his arms around the intensely warm body in his bed, and draws in a long breath through his nostrils. He feels a smile tickle his face as the nostalgic scent of cherries floods his senses as he feels a soft wall of hair brush against his nose. At first, his mind doesn't question anything and just accepts that there's something good about this morning and how he's waking up and he decides to enjoy it.

But when he feels something in front of him expand slightly in his arms, he is startled out of his sleep and jolts up out of bed. There's a brief moment in his mind, before he gets his bearings, when he thinks he went on a drunken slew last night down at the pub he's staying at and met someone willing to spend the night with him. And in that second, feeling the hot body laying in his arms, he hates himself.

It's only when his eyes focus and catch the sight of her beautiful brunette locks tumbling across the pillow and underneath the bedding and he feels the heat from her golden soft skin on his arms that his memory starts to come back to him. When it does, he has to run it over again in his mind. He's not sure it's real. He can't seem to trust it, knowing he's had that dream so many times he can play it back as vividly as if he actually lived it. But here she is, sleeping soundly in his bed. Not only sleeping soundly in his bed, but is dead asleep in his arms, just as he always pictured her.

Using his arm as a support underneath her pillow and the other kept draping over her, tangling her fingers together with his on the arm around her in a loose grip, with the covers pulled up just below her naked shoulder.

She can't be real. Life doesn't smile upon him this much. He can't be this lucky. There's no way last night actually happened and she's not some deluded figment of his runaway imagination.

Against all rational thought in his mind, he decides to test the waters and slowly leans down, giving into the draw her warm skin is radiating with. He lets his eyes drift shut as he lips reach out and feather the lightest kiss down onto her arm, brushing his lips down against her skin as lightly as he can.

His heart locks up when she starts to stir at the feeling, nodding her head to the side against his arm and scooting herself back, further into the cove of his chest and his embrace and relaxes with a long, sleepy sigh, pulling at his other arm as if it's a cover to pull over herself. When it happens, the unbridled joy that explodes through his system at the realization that she's actually here and that it actually happened, finally, is indescribable. He lets her pull him in closer to her and wraps his arm around her tenderly, holding her lovingly to his chest and burying his nose into the tangles of her hair.

He wants to go back to sleep. He wants to remember what it feels like to fall asleep with her in his arms like this. But he's too wide awake now.

The night before still doesn't seem real. Out of all the times he imagined it being with her, he never expected her to be that emotionally driven. There was something about her that was wanting him to be closer to her than he possibly could be, more than he already was. Like they each wanted to get lost in the other. He felt her raw emotion on her lips and sensed it in her features and her raggedly strained breath. It's as if the more he tried to sooth her pain and take it away by a soft caress of her face or a loving kiss on her lips, the more it would cause, and the more it caused, the closer to him she would pull herself.

The night was still long, setting themselves into a long, slow rhythm of going back and forth between unmatched intensity and slow, exploratory, permission-seeking love making.

It's the time in the morning when the sun is shining too brightly through the curtains, and Alexis is sure to be off at school by now. He was hoping to see her off on his first day back. And as the responsibilities of his normal life outside of this bed and the beauty in it with him, his thoughts start to haunt him, just as they stared to before she came into his bedroom the night before.

How much do they really know? Can they just walk away from it all and will they even let them walk away? With her with him now, will they try to rip them apart? Will they try to take her away again? Jack left him with worries that can't be dispelled.

He loves this woman too much to do nothing while the wolves are at the door and the barking is getting louder.

Making the decision, he reaches up and softly brushes her hair back behind her with a light touch, revealing her beautiful sleeping face. With a tenderness, he leans over and presses his lips to her cheek lovingly, letting her know as she sleeps that he loves her with a long-held kiss that he's slow to release. He waits, with his lips just a touch away from her cheek for her to stir, but when she remains still in his arms, he slowly slides his arm out from under her pillow and carefully climbs out of bed.

A silent ten minutes later, he's ran some warm water through his hair, scrubbed his face, brushed his teeth, and is dressed in a pair of darker, more comfortable denim jeans he forgot to pack with him and a light weight pale blue dress shirt. When he comes out of the closet, he decides to leave her a note, not wanting to go through the hell that is sure to be turning his cell phone back on after this long, and writes out a note to her. He comes back into the room and searches for something to prop the note up on, thinking it might stay put sitting against the table lamp on her side.

But as he tip-toes around the room, he spots something and smiles.

He quietly pads over and picks up the stuffed bear he bought her and goes over, sitting the bear on the nightstand and putting the note, reading '_woke up and had to make a quick errand, please stay naked in bed as long as you can', _in the bear's lap, and goes out to his office.

* * *

It's windy, but ever since he cut his hair, he doesn't worry about it too much.

He doesn't like being back here, but he feels that if Jack had to come at this, this is what he would do. Like father like son.

The orange and yellow leaves of the country side are rustling through the cemetery and covering up the headstones, and the breeze in the air is making it somewhat haunting in the early morning. That funeral was the first time he ever visited a cemetery. He thought the feel of a cemetery was easy to convey when he had to write a scene in one for a book. He's driven passed them, he's watched them in plenty of movies. But to be in one where you actually know a person who's buried there, it's an entirely different, more surreal and haunting feeling.

He knows he's nearing his grave. He's been scared to look up from his shoes, scared to know what it is he's going to feel like seeing his grave again, what memories it will bring back, what the bile at the back of his throat will taste like. But when he passes it coming from the opposite direction, he turns in the grass and sees the grave marker. The leaves blowing in the air have gotten caught by the head stone and are covering a part of his name. He leans down with a knotted heart and burning eyes to brush the leaves away, reading the name aloud in his head.

Rick swallows thickly as the pain of the memory starts to stab him. Roy didn't deserve to die like that. He had a family.

He always wrote in people talking to graves in his books, simply because he thought that's what people did, but never understood it until now. "You told me to look after her." He says the only thing on his mind.

His eyes look away from the headstone and go over to the spot where the podium stood, where she was shot that hot, humid day.

"I know I did my best, but my best didn't seem to be good enough." He says and lets his head hang low as a breeze wafts through the air. "I guess you can thank Him for me for giving her back." He swallows past the ever-growing lump in his throat. "And I won't fail this time. I promise." He says and stands up without another glance at the grave and turns around, making straight for the spot across the path where he saw it.

He goes passed a few more rows of graves, passed the tree and the tomb, and comes to a slow stop where he saw it. The small glimmer of light that heralded the worst moments of his life. Just a small glint that warned him. It was a warning that if he'd just had enough forethought, if he'd been quicker, he would have been able to stop. But he wasn't. He failed.

Kneeling down, he presses his hand to the grass where the sniper should have laid. Looking from where he could have come from and where he could have gone. There's no utility buildings or shacks near by. Just open space. There were grounds keepers at the funeral, there only for digging the actual grave and supervising the burial, but in his three weeks, he remembers questioning every single one of them. They all checked out. Jack was right. Whoever took this shot wasn't doing it to kill her. That was only a side effect.

This shot must have been taken to warn others about what they were capable of. But who?

"Rick?" A familiar voice calls to him from some distance away.

Rick looks up from his place kneeling down to what may well be a random spot in the cemetery to anyone else and sees Jim walking through the cemetery, coming from the opposite direction of Montgomery's grave with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Jim," he says surprised as he stands. "Hi."

"Hey," Jim greets him with a smile and reaches out to shake Rick's hand. Rick returns a friendly, albeit surprised, smile and shakes the man's hand. "I hadn't heard you were back in town."

He nods and decides what he should tell him. In the chaos of returning home, Beckett must not have called her father to fill him in. "Yeah, I got back in yesterday morning."

Jim nods and stuffs his hand back into the pocket of his jacket. "So... what are you doing here?"

Deciding that Jim is in the right not to make this setting right for small talk, he gets to the point. "I was just trying to look into what happened with fresh eyes, that's all. See if..." Rick trails off, windmilling his hands as he looks in the other direction toward where the podium stood, "anything stands out." He sees Jim nod out of the corner of his eye before he turns back and asks an obvious question of his own. "What about you? I didn't exactly expect to see any visitors."

"Oh, I..." Jim nods off and points back behind him, "was just coming from a doctor's appointment and..." he's hesitating, Rick can tell, but he patiently waits him out, "someone from group suggested I revisit this place when I had the chance, see if it helps me come to terms with things." Jim looks down to the grass where they're standing, then back up through the cemetery. "Is this where it came from then?" He asks, gaining Rick's attention back with a raised brow. "The shot, I mean."

With a solemn nod, Rick looks down to the grass between the headstones. "Yeah, this is it." He clarifies, his stomach knotting with nauseousness. "This is where I saw the glimmer come from."

He can feel Jim's eyes pear at him intently for a moment before he hears him shuffle in the grass. "Have you heard from her, son?"

Rick can't help but feel a smile at the edge of his lips. Somehow, Jim's earned the right to address him as that. He's lived it, he knows what a father is supposed to do, he knows what a father really is. Rick doesn't have to get used to hearing it from Jim. With Jack, it felt like he was wedging himself into a part of his life he just didn't fit into, as much as even Rick himself wanted him to.

"She found me when I was away, convinced me to come home." He says with a warm smile appearing on his face. "She said that she realized her life was too short to keep denying the truth."

Jim sees the far away look in his eyes. He's seen that far away look in the mirror when he relives a moment from their past. He knows he spends a lot of time in the past. It's all he has left of them. "You know," Jim hesitates to start, shuffling his feet in the grass and looking down.

Rick looks over and sees Jim's eyes turned downward.

"When Katie was growing up, her mother and I always talked about slowing down after she was grown up." Jim says and looks up to Rick with a calm easiness in his eyes. "Johanna was from a small town up north and she always talked about moving back out to the country after Katie had left the house, getting out of the city. We'd agreed that, after our daughter was off at college, we'd... slow down, work on making up for the time we lost together working and raising our daughter. I'm sure you and Alexis' mother had the same talk."

"No," Rick says on a dark chuckle, "she made up for lost time, all right, just not with her husband."

"In any case," Jim continues, "when Katie went off to Stanford, Johanna and I finally had a chance to slow down, but... she'd been partner for only a few years and didn't want to walk away. _I_ wanted to, I mean... we had an agreement." Jim admits with an edge of anger making its way into his voice. "It was just one case after another with her. Katie comes home for a visit and she accepts some pro-bono work. I plan a nice dinner out for the family, a reservation at Katie's favorite restaurant, and I get a call from my wife."

Rick can still put himself back in the precinct that night she first told him. Seeing the first real raw emotion from her, hearing tears in her voice for the first time. Thinking about it too much still makes his heart break.

Jim shakes his head to himself and seems to grit his teeth. "She says that she's still working on her case and that she'll just meet us there."

Rick nods. "Yeah, she told me." He says in a low voice.

He can hear Jim take in a ragged breath. "You want to know the last thing I said to my wife, Rick?" Rick hesitates before he finally gives in and looks over for his answer. "I said... I don't know what it's going to take for you to spend some time with your daughter, but I hope you find out before we're dead."

Rick can feel his heart squeeze intensely, more so when he sees Jim fight tears in his eyes.

"And uh..." Jim continues after a moment taking gathering himself, "I just wish more than anything that I could go back and have a moment to tell her I loved her." He says, looking down to the grass. "I hate thinking she died wondering if her own husband didn't love her."

Rick blinks his eyes slowly and lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders deflating. "I suppose the cat's out of the bag then." Jim chuckles silently to himself. "Have you always known?"

"My wife forbid me from meddling in my daughter's personal life but... you didn't exactly do a very good job at hiding it, son, dedicating two books to her and everything." That earns Jim a soft chuckle. "I'm just surprised that you were willing to let her go."

"I..." he cuts himself off abruptly, not wanting to defend his actions or admit to something he doesn't want to admit to her father yet. "Josh never asked her before they broke up anyway. I guess he listened to me."

Jim nods again and moves to knock Rick in the arm with his elbow. "He never asked me either."

Rick looks over to him, "Were you expecting him to?"

"Well," Jim smiles, "at the end of the day, it's Katie's decision, but that doesn't mean I would have to be happy about it."

Rick's brow pinches, thinking a surgeon who gives most of his time away would have earned a solid acceptance by any parent, if not a loving welcome into any family. "You didn't approve of Josh?"

"I wouldn't say approve or disapprove, Rick, but..." Jim trails off, shrugging his shoulders. "Let's just say I didn't exactly see him diving in front of any bullets for my daughter any time soon." Rick feels a smile force its way onto his face, lighting up his features as much as he tries to fight it. "And I know I'm not going to be around forever. I'd... kind of like to go knowing my daughter's going to be happy. I'm still a few years away from retirement, but uh..." Jim nods off, shuffling his feet, "Johanna always did have her heart set on having grandchildren to spoil."

Rick loses the fight with his smile and decides to just shake his head and let it overtake him. Looking around him, why he came here in the first place, he's falling victim to the same thing he asked her not to fall victim to. After a moment, he looks back up to Jim. "Thanks, Jim."

* * *

An hour later, Rick is pushing the door to the loft open and is hit with the scent of food being cooked again.

But with a cardboard cupholder in his hands, he's startled as he takes a step into the loft and sees his mother at the island, hearing her distinct laughter as Kate stands on the opposite end with steam rising up from the stove in front of her smiling face.

His mother is the first to actually acknowledge his arrival in her usual theatrical manner. "Ah, Richard!" She cries and opens her arms to him as he closes the door behind himself. "Where have you been?"

"Just uh..." he chooses his words, looking at the two coffee cups in the holder in one hand, "had to run a quick errand, that's all."

"Ugh, you and your errands." Martha rolls her eyes and moves behind her son, pushing him toward the kitchen. "The one time you're actually up and about tending to responsibilities and your lovely partner is here making-"

"Martha," Kate says with a smile as they approach. Kate lifts her hand and gives them a dismissive wave. "It's alright. I was hungry and have learned not to wait up for him when it comes to food."

"But," Rick buts in, "not when it comes to coffee." He says and moves out of his mother's invasive shoving and around the island to stand a few feet away from her. Rick then pulls the second cup from the cardboard holder and slowly hands it to her. "I hope this makes up for my absence."

Her system was aswarm with butterflies when she saw the cups when he came in, but they're going crazy now that she's actually reaching over and taking it from him, just as she always would. When she woke up with him gone, she started to panic until she saw his note sitting in Sherlock's lap. She's only been up for a little over an hour and Martha's been keeping her company and luckily, she was already in the kitchen by the time Martha came down stairs.

Kate takes the cup with a smile but doesn't take a drink right away and waits until Castle settles himself into place just a few feet away from her as she turns the burner off. "Thanks."

Rick's eyes crinkle at the sound of her voice and he quickly hears his mother go upstairs, humming an out-of-key tune to herself.

And Kate is quick to pick the ball up. "So, are we going to talk about it?" She asks in a low voice as she lifts her cup to her mouth.

Rick takes a step closer to her. "You think we should talk about it?" He asks in a voice as low as her's.

"I mean, we _should _talk about it. Unless you want to go the route we usually go."

"Being?"

"We both pretend it never happened and that it meant nothing even though we both know that's bull and that we're just scared to talk about it." She jabs as she takes a sip.

Rick laughs under his breath. "I'll tell you what." He says and takes a step closer to her, now just a foot apart from her, earning her full attention as she looks up at him. "Why don't we talk about it over dinner tonight?"

Kate stares up at him for a long moment before she shakes her head away in a smile. "Are you asking me out on a date?" She asks incredulously, a smile making it hard to get the words out.

"If you say yes, it's a date, but if you say no, I'll come back and say it's just dinner." He charms her with a wag of his brow.

Kate smiles and hides herself behind her coffee cup. "Okay."

"Listen," Rick shifts his tone and shuffles closer to her, "I have to put on my shining armor and do battle with the wicked, fire-breathing dragon of the north today, so-"

"Wait," Kate chuckles, "Wicked, fire-breathing dragon?"

"I have a meeting with Gina I'm two and a half months late for." Kate laughs brightly and doubles over toward him, her head nearly falling into his chest. "But... I have a friend over in Little Italy who owes me a long-standing favor that I've been waiting for just such an occasion to cash in... and we can talk about it then." Rick eyes her with that bright-eyed charm she's seen before, but not in a long while. "And some other things if we have time."

Kate looks down and takes his hand, looking at their enjoined hands for a long moment as she circles his knuckles with her thumb before looking back up at him. "We'll make time."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry this chapter is so long, but I needed to get these scenes in one chapter before the next one. Hope you enjoyed. Leave a review if you did. :)_


	17. Chapter 17

He was only going for a laugh when he said it, but spending all day in Gina's office, he wishes he really did have a suit of armor on. Gina had already booked weeks of book signings and interviews, release parties and press events that he skipped out on. She claimed that she had sympathy for him the first few weeks after what happened at the funeral, but after he missed the first singing event she had booked, her sympathy went out the window along with her patience. Half the day was spent daydreaming as she paced back and forth behind her desk as she lectured him about his career responsibilities and 'being a grown-up'.

With every backhanded insult about his disappearance, all he could remind himself of is how glad he is that they're not married anymore. Her talking down tone hasn't changed a bit.

He had to use the phone at the reception desk just to call Beckett and tell her if they wanted to have a long night out like he'd planned for them, she might have to just meet him at the restaurant. She said that she'd have to stop by her apartment to get changed but that it wouldn't be a problem. And with a quick stop to the loft to change into a pair of pressed black slacks, a dark blue satin polo shirt tucked in, and a navy blue sport coat with a white border going around the collar, and a kiss on the cheek from his daughter for good luck, he hopped in a cab and gave the driver the address.

With a clench of nervousness running up his spine, he steps out onto the sidewalk just a block away from the restaurant and looks to his right, seeing her shove off the wall, dressed in a pair of open toes four-inch heels, a black skirt cut just above her knees, a dark blouse cut just low enough to hide her scar, and a white lace cardigan with a small clutch purse held in both of her hands.

She turns to face him and feels a blush flare intensely up her neck, feeling his eyes pierce her not in hunger or lust, but in awe and amazement. Brushing her hair behind her ear to hide her reaction to him, she waits as he takes a few slow, almost staggering steps toward her. He always knew how to dress, and he looks just as put-together and handsome as she expected him to be.

"Hi," is all he can manage to get out as he nears her, his blank expression apart from a raised brow finally breaking into a soft smile.

She gives him a small nod and gives him a long once over. "You look nice, Castle."

He breathes a short laugh and smiles. "I would tell you just how nice you look, but um..." he trails off and takes a closer step toward her, his hands wanting desperately to pull her into him, "I don't think we have the time it would take, so..."

She feels herself fight a smile and cranes her neck to hide her still present blush. After a moment, she looks up to him and nods her head off to the side. "So, is this the place?" She asks, looking up at the crowded restaurant.

"Mmhmm," he hums happily, "this place is amazing. Come on." He says and guides her by the small of her back.

Pulling open the door for her, never losing his gentlemanly touch, the soft rumble of the customers is the first thing she gets besides the waft of pasta and bread. It's pretty crowded and as she looks over the seating, she can't seem to see an open table. "Did you make reservations, Castle? This place looks pretty packed."

"Reservations? Psh..." he scoffs and smirks at the host. "Hi, I'm Rick Castle." He says in a raised voice to the host. "I was wondering if Uncle Leo was-"

"Is that Ricky Castle I hear out there?!" A loud voice booms from the back. Kate's eyes pop at the sound but Rick smirks happily as a stout man shoves open the swinging door from the kitchen open from the other side of the restaurant with a large smile. "Ricky!" The man says, opening his arms to him and lumbering his way over to him.

Rick smiles and claps his hand together with his and they each pull each other into a brotherly embrace. "It's been a while, Leo."

"Been a while? I haven't seen your pretty face in ages, Ricky. You said you were gonna bring it around here more often." Leo says, giving Rick's shoulder a hard shove. "How've you been? How's Alexis doing?"

"She just started her senior year, top of her class."

"And your mother, how's Martha doing?" Leo asks, crossing his arms. "She still on Broadway?"

"No, just my nerves, for the time being." Kate bites the inside of her lip, fighting a smile and stifling a hard laugh.

"So what, might I ask, brings you to this part of town to see Uncle Leo, huh?"

Rick looks over at Kate, who is watching the scene unfold with a hint of confusion on in her expression as she lets the smile fade. "Is the private room still open?"

"Ah, Ricky," Leo shakes his head, "you know I love you, but I can't just open up the private room just because you want to impress this Victoria Secret model you snagged."

"Wha-heh... excuse me?" Kate starts to speak up before she feels Rick's hand gently clasp her arm.

"Um," Ricky starts, giving her a look to slow down before turning back to Leo, "she could most definitely make it, Leo, but this is actually my partner from the NYPD, Kate Beckett."

That sends Uncle Leo's face shining into a bright smile and he points at her. "You mean to tell me you're the real-life Nikki Heat?"

"I-I uh..." She starts, looking between Leo and Rick, "I suppose so."

Leo claps his hands together and shakes his head. "The real-life Nikki Heat in my restaurant. Hey," Leo says and turns back to Rick, "I'll get you two set up, all right? Anything for the brothers and sisters in blue. Jimmy, set these two up in the lounge, please."

Without grabbing menus, the host smiles and lifts his hand, guiding the two down the aisle and across the restaurant where they eventually come to a set of two large french doors. The host pushes open both doors and takes a step aside to let them in as he leans over to the wall and turns the light on to a low dim. The room has a decor of dark red, an argyle carpet of dark red and off-white, with two large ferns in each corner only used to conceal the speakers that play the soft, melodic accordion music in the background. In the center sits a small circular table with a brighter red table cloth and two chairs, a center piece of a large bowl filled with water and rose pedals and small candles floating inside. In amazement, Kate watches as the host silently walks over and pulls out a lighter, lighting the candles in the bowl, giving them a smile and stepping aside.

"Wow," she whispers as she takes in the setting. After a moment, she feels his hand take her's and she sees him step in front of her with a gentle smile, ushering her toward the seat on the right. She catches his eye and feels her slack jaw grace with an open smile and lets him lead her over to her chair and pull it out behind her. Brushing under her skirt, she sits and he quickly takes the seat in front of her.

"Wine? Champagne?" The host asks from the doorway. "Sparkling water?"

She feels Rick's eyes on her again, silently asking her to decide for the both of them. "Uh..." she starts and looks over to the host, "wine, please."

With a friendly smile, the host nods and closes the two doors behind him, leaving them in almost total silence aside from the soft melody in the background. She stares through the dark red curtain hanging over the panes of glass in the door for a moment before turning back to Rick, seeing him adjust himself in his chair.

"Is there a reason why they didn't give us menus?" She asks, not hesitating as she turns back to him.

Rick smirks and pulls himself forward. "Leo saves the lounge for his friends. On top of that, he's a genius. Give it a chance."

Kate smirks despite herself and leans forward on her arms. "Okay, I have to ask." She starts, waiting for him to look up from soothing over the napkin on his leg. "How do you know a guy named Uncle Leo and what did you do to get him to owe you a favor?"

His eyes seem to bore into her as they darken into seriousness. "You really want to know?"

A dark edge in his voice scares her. She always knew he had weird underworld connections, but this is just too real for her. What on Earth was this room really used for? "What'd you do?" She pushes out, her throat caught.

Rick leans in close over the table, looking toward the door in caution and starts to whisper loudly. "I took his place as a chaperone on Alexis' second-grade field trip to the natural history museum."

Realizing he's joking, she lets her head fall forward and hears him start to giggle happily. "Ha ha." She laughs sarcastically as he's cracking up in front of her.

"What, did you think he was an old mafia connection or something? Alexis and his son were in the same class. He was scheduled to be a chaperone on Alexis' field trip but couldn't make it, so I filled in for him. We became friends." He shrugs casually.

Kate leans back in her chair, shaking her head despite herself and biting down on the side of her tongue. "I've always liked that you're so involved in Alexis' life."

"Had nothing to do with that. I just wanted to go to the museum." He jokes as the doors into the room open and a waiter walks in with a bucket filled with ice carried on one arm and two wine glasses hanging precariously from his other hand.

The waiter sets the glasses down on the table and goes about pouring them each a glass and sets the wine bottle on a small stand adjacent to the table. Telling them to enjoy their evenings and that their food will be ready as soon as possible, Uncle Leo's orders that they receive only the best he has to offer, the waiter leaves and closes the door again.

Kate is quick to take up her glass of red wine and bring it to her lips. "So, you want to talk about it yet?" She asks, hearing her phone buzz in her clutch purse sitting on the far end of the table.

Rick looks over to her with his own glass of wine and, watching as she takes a small sip and reaches for her clutch purse with the other hand. He's taking it as a great sign that she seems so determined to talk about last night. But at the same time, he wanted to show her a good time. He's known about Leo's private lounge that he uses to cater his friends and has had an open invitation to use it when he wanted, but never had anyone special enough to do it with. A part of him was hoping they'd at least start off by talking like they always do over dinner. Not usually about casework or suspects, but just what they were up to in their lives, catching up as the real friends that they were.

"We can, if you want to make the rest of the night go by rather awkwardly." He says honestly and takes the first sip of his wine.

"Awkward?" She blurts out in insult. "It was awkward for you?" She asks him desperately, letting her shoulders sag and her phone fall into her lap held in her hand.

"No," he chuckles and raises his hand, "I'm not saying that, Beckett, it was..." he trails off, his eyes becoming lidded heavily and his lungs contracting, "it was... wow. I-I mean, you were... wow."

Kate smiles and hides it bashfully behind her hair falling in her face as her phone continues to buzz in her hands. "So were you, Castle." She says and looks down to her phone finally.

Rick nods in her direction. "Who's calling you?"

"Oh, it's-" She waves her phone and stuffs it back in her clutch purse. "Just Espo. I'll call him back later."

Rick nods, paying it no mind, and takes another small sip of his wine. "So it..." he attempts, fear coiling around his throat as her hazel eyes seem to pierce him. He feels so vulnerable right now. "It was... right." He tries his best, but knows he missed the mark by a mile in his mind, "Wasn't it?"

"What do you mean?" She asks honestly as she sets her wine glass down to the table.

"Well," he starts, adjusting himself nervously in his chair, "as incredible as it was, I... couldn't help but notice that you seemed... tightly wound about something. Like something was hurting but not in a real way. I can't really describe it."

Pinching the stem of her wine glass with a pair of strong fingers, the lingers of the pain seem to trickle back into her body, making her scars tingle. Her normal self would be anything but truthful with him right now and would tell him anything she had to to get him off the scent. But her normal self wouldn't be here with him, wanting to forge a new path in her life in the first place. Everything about her life right now is unexplored territory. She's never had to do this before and the only thing that can guide her on how to do it is the truth.

She has to tell him the truth. "You remember how I said I didn't remember anything from when I got shot?"

Rick's heart turns to a hot stone in his chest as she whips them into another topic he wasn't ready for. "Yeah."

"Last night, I..." she tries to find the best way to tell him. "Everything was perfect when I first took us under the covers." She admits with her stomach uncoiling in memory of the night, her eyes staring down at the stem of her wine glass as she pinches in her thumb and forefinger, spinning it in a small half-circle. "The way we kissed and... the way your arms and your hands felt... it was all perfect." She says with a deep longing in her voice, turning it husky until the memory of the moment rears its head.

And Rick is hesitant to make the shift, but knows it's better to do it now before she decides it's better to let the matter drop. "But?"

Her breath is shallow, but she forges on ahead. "Rick, I know something happened that day." She says to him, her eyes down to her lap at first, but she quickly lifts them to look over the table at him, her features dancing hauntingly with the candles in the bowl in front of them. "I don't know what, but I know it changed everything."

He knows exactly what she's talking about. It's terrifying him. He wasn't ready for this.

"I know it has something to do with you, and..." she says and looks away from him, "last night when you put your hand in my hair and rolled me over... when you asked me what was wrong..."

Rick can't feel a single muscle in his body, but the words tumble ungracefully from his lips anyway. "You remembered?"

She shakes her head and looks back down to her lap. "No, but I... I think I remembered getting shot." She says finally and looks up at him with shimmering eyes. "I still can't remember anything, and I _wish _I didn't have the memory of that pain when I was with you for the first time, but... when you were hovering over me like that, I think my body was remembering the pain of getting shot."

His heart aches painfully in his chest, feeling so selfish for the night before. "Kate, I'm-"

She stops him by reaching over the table and taking his hand, giving it a strong squeeze, knowing what he's going to say and not wanting him to finish. "Don't apologize, Castle." She demands, looking over to him with a stern brow. "I'm not going to force you to tell me what happened if you really don't want to tell me but please..." she shakes her head and looks over to him again, looking him straight in the eye, "don't apologize for anything that happened that day."

His hand still being squeezed by her, his thumb starts to pet her knuckles softly, holding her still haunting gaze. "What if that's not what I'm apologizing for?"

"I don't care, Rick." She answers sternly. "Whether you were there or not, one way or the other, I only got through it because of you."

"I still should've been there, Kate. You needed me."

"Yes," She says, the level of honesty making her heart physically ache, "I did. But right now, I want the only thing to matter to be that you're here now." His eyes soften and the desperate vulnerability dilating in his blue eyes seems to fade as his hand relaxes in her grip. "If we have to spend this entire relationship fighting over who gets to claim more of the blame, we're never going to get anywhere."

That earns her an honest smile from him as he laughs under his breath and his eyes crinkle.

"And I don't want us going nowhere." She says to him, being as honest and open as she can, to a point where it's painful thinking she was ever as closed off as she remembers being with him. "Do you?"

His thumb circles her knuckles again as the doors into the room open and the wait staff comes in. "No."

* * *

_A/N: Broke 500 reviews! Thanks for all the ups and support! You guys rock. Lemme know how you like this chapter. A bit more descriptive than I usually go for, but I wanted the scene in your head. _


	18. Chapter 18

"You were right, Castle." Kate says over half a mouth full of food as she reaches down to her leg for her napkin. Rick smirks over at her while he takes another piece of bell pepper on his fork. "This guy is a genius."

"So, you liked it?" He asks, popping the pepper in his mouth.

Kate breathes a chuckle and reaches for her wine glass, feeling her phone vibrate next to her arm inside her clutch purse again. "I normally don't like capers, but..." she says and takes the last sip of wine to down the rest of the chicken piccata Leo had made her. She watches Rick finish the vegetables left from his steak pizzaiola and absent-mindedly snaps open her purse to pull her phone out. She scoffs loudly and snaps the purse closed, pushing it away and leaning back heavily.

"Who keeps calling you?" Rick asks, lifting his napkin to wipe his mouth. "That's the second time."

"It was Ryan." She sighs, not wanting to deal with anything from her old life. Right now, she'd rather not deal with anything outside of this room. She's been on dates before in her life, and she's been out to dinner with him a number of times after they would close a case. But now, admitting to herself how she feels about him, she doesn't want anything to bother them, to come between them. She just wants to be here with him.

Rick senses her impatient shift in mood as she sets her empty wine glass back down to the table with a heavy sigh. The night has been going fantastically so far, but with her phone still ringing, and with her having no obligation to answer it now, all it is is an invasion on their night out together. He likes Ryan and Esposito, considers them to be some of the only true friends he's ever had, despite their using him for Knicks or Giants tickets every once in a while. He knew he could always count on them to actually have his back if the chips were ever down.

He can't really tell what she's thinking, but one thing he can tell from the sad darkness starting to seep into her features as she pinches the stem of her empty wine glass again and leans back in her chair is that she wants to be drawn away from it.

He promised her they would talk about more than just them making love last night. He wanted to talk about everything, lay it all out for her. Do the one thing he's never done with anyone else. When standing on the edge of this cliff face, he's always backed off. This time, he wants to trust her enough to take the dive completely. He's never done it because he knows the insecurity and vulnerability he plays off and hides behind a confident smile and clever wit. It was her that got him to take himself deeper than that. It was her that taught him that he could be more than that.

The only thing either of them can hear is the soft music reminiscent of the Italian countryside, aside from the soft lull of the people outside the private lounge. When his ears remind him of the music, he gets the idea and is pushing his plate forward and standing up without a second thought. Kate looks up from her empty plate and watches as he stands off to the left side of the table in a cool fashion, looks down at her with a soft smirk and a softness in his eyes that seem to twinkle with the candle light in the room, turns to her, and extends his left hand to her.

Kate looks up at him, seeing his palm face up, silently asking her to stand. Her eyes flick up to him as a smile splits across her face. "You want to dance?" She asks, barely able to get the words out over her smile.

"Actually, in the spirit of honesty," he starts in a low, husky voice, "I want you to dance. I'm just looking for an excuse to hold on to you for a couple of minutes."

Her heart soars as his eyes seem to draw her in. Taking her napkin off her lap, her legs feel weak when she stands. She reaches for his hand before she's fully on her feet and he's quick to start tugging her in. She gets to her feet and he tugs on her hand and gently pulls her in but she falls into him gracefully, draping her arm over his right shoulder and leaning into him while his arm wraps around her waist, his eyes sparkling as they look into her's.

Her body tingles with butterflies as she feels herself pulled against him, a smile playing at her lips that won't go away. And after a long moment listening to the soft beat of the melody playing through the speakers, they start to dip and sway gently with the music. Staring into each other's eyes, she can, for once, feel the connection between them. She knows she's felt this before when catching his eyes like this, but for the first time, she's embracing it, letting it overtake her. Kate holds his gaze as she sways them back and forth, letting his eyes make her feel coveted, longed for, admired... even loved.

His eyes have always had that effect on her.

Kate hugs his right shoulder that has her arm draped over it and gives his hand a light squeeze. "I've had a really nice time tonight, Castle."

His eyes narrow a bit. "And to think," he starts, taking a pause to take in her beautiful features, "a couple days ago, I was lost in the pits of my own misery."

She feels her smile want to press back onto her face in pride. She accepts the compliment, that she was what brought him back, and lets her heart swell. She can feel herself melt into him, let him take on more and more of her weight with each sway she leads them on, never breaking his gaze until her mind starts nagging her. A compliment that she brought him out of his own misery, but why was he lost in it, to begin with. Did she really put that much doubt in his mind that afternoon that he thought what they had was that easy for her to walk away from?

Rick can pick up easily on her sudden pull into another mood as her features start to harden. "What's wrong?"

He's asking her in the same worried tone that he used last night. She takes her hand out of his grasp and drapes her other arm over his shoulder. "Why did you let Josh get to you like that?"

His heart turns to stone quickly in his chest, but still, inside he knows he can't shut himself out and smirk his way out of it like he normally would. He promised they would talk and he didn't make that promise just to get her to come to dinner with him. He meant it. She's been amazingly honest as opposed to her old ways and the only way he knows how to repay her is to be as honest with her as she has been with him. His eyes turn down and he tenses in her arms.

"It wasn't Josh, was it?" She asks, feeling him turn cold and deciding to give him an out. That earns her his eyes back and an arched brow of sadness. He didn't want to say it, she can tell. Because if it wasn't Josh, there's only one other person that could have caused it. "It was me, wasn't it?"

He takes in a strained breath and tightens his grip on her waist. "I'd like to think it was more me, actually."

"Castle," She says in a hushed voice, moving her arms around his neck to let him know she's not going anywhere, "I want you to tell me what happened."

Rick swallows thickly and gives her a nod, losing himself only for a second in the feel of her embrace. "The day you woke up in the hospital and I went to see you," he starts, looking up to her with dark eyes, "the only thing you could think about was getting back on the case."

She feels him freeze and they stop swaying, the music in the background disappearing in their minds.

"You'd just spent three weeks in a coma, had just gotten a bullet dug out of you because of what they did to you, hadn't even been awake for an hour and you were already wanting to go after them. And Josh and I didn't agree on much, but we were both surprised in that we were shocked that all you could talk about was the case... and continuing the investigation." He painfully says to her, even recalling the moment when he told her to take it slow and she snapped at him that day. "And we both agreed that it was my fault because I pushed you to investigate in the first place."

Her nails dig angrily into his shoulders in frustration. Whether it was Josh who convinced him or himself that lept down that rabbit hole, she's tired of people assuming she's not in charge of whatever decisions she makes. She can feel herself tensing in his arms and her heart speaks to her in that moment, telling her to correct herself. And in that moment, she looks back up to his guilt-ridden baby blue eyes and starts. "If I told you what made me walk away from it all, will you let me have my fair share of the blame?"

He silently gives her a nod, not trusting his own voice.

"I want to say it was a few weeks ago when I was still at my dad's cabin. He'd went home and left me there since I was back on my feet and all I had to do was heal when some guy showed up at my door. He was older, late sixties maybe, and he said he was a friend of Montgomery's and needed to talk. So, I let him in, turned and grabbed my dad's hunting shotgun out of the coat closet and pointed it at him."

Rick chuckles despite himself, imagining the face on the man when he saw her standing there with a shotgun to his face.

Kate's eyes drift down to his chest and she lets her arms fall back to being draped lazily over his shoulders. "I guess when Montgomery talked about making sure he ended things, he wasn't talking about making his stand in that hangar."

After she doesn't continue, Rick prods. "I don't understand, what was he talking about?"

Kate nods and the only thing she can recall from that night is the moment she can feel herself change. "He said he had a file on the guy behind everything that Montgomery had. From what he told me... Montgomery had been using it against them for years to protect me, promising to keep me off the investigation as much as he could as my captain, but-"

"But with Montgomery gone," Rick cuts her off, continuing for her, his conscience unwilling to let the words stay inside, "there wouldn't be anyone to release the file if they killed you."

"And no one there to keep me from the investigation either." She corrects him. "That's why Montgomery gave this guy instructions only to talk to you." She says to him, her eyes softening up to him with admiration.

Rick is taken aback as he shakes his head slightly. "Me?"

Kate nods slowly. "But since you were gone, he had to come to me directly and he said that I had a choice. It was either the case or my life. I answered with the first thing that came to my mind and I said that the case _was _my life." She can see Rick's eyes twinge with sadness as his arms want to snake further around her. "And you want to know what got me to see the truth?"

She waits for him to respond, and in a scratchy voice, he replies, "What?"

She smiles, "It was Sherlock."

His eyebrow knits, but his eyes remain shimmering with emotional honesty. "The bear?"

"He was sitting on the entertainment center facing me when I said it. And when I did, I looked over to him and I could hear you ask me... what happens when I close it? And that's when I realized that the case... even my job, was my whole life, and I had to ask myself just how much I was willing to sacrifice to actually close that case, and would my life even be worth living after that? So, I went back to work a few days later, thinking all I needed to do was just get back into the swing of things, but... when I found your chair gone..." She trails off, looking down and moving her arms to fold them in between their bodies, "I realized that it didn't matter if I sacrificed everything for my case and my job because it was going to take them from me either way."

Kate looks back up to him with glimmering eyes, enhanced by the flicker of the candlelight as she pets his chest.

"I've had a lot of things taken from me in my life because I've had to sacrifice them for my mother's murder and my job, but I'm not willing to sacrifice you."

Rick's never felt his heart pulled toward such a deep connection before in his life. In this moment, she could ask him anything and he'd be more truthful than he's ever been even with himself. She deserves nothing less.

"Now you know why I walked away." She says in a soft but confident tone and moves her arms to drape back over his shoulders lazily and starts to sway them back and forth again with the music. "Now I want to know why you really left."

His jaw clenches and he looks away from her gaze. "You want the prideful answer or the self-deprecating answer?"

"I want the truth." She said pointedly.

Rick swallows what emotions he can and gives her a stern nod. "I left because I'm not strong enough to watch you be with the wrong guy." He says, saying to her exactly what he told his father at his lowest.

Kate squeezes his shoulders and her brow arches sadly, looking into his vulnerable eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kate, but I can't be around you anymore if I don't at least get my shot at being with you."

"The wrong guy?" She asks, making his eyes turn down away from her in shame. "Rick, if you knew all this time that you were the right guy, why did you leave?"

"Because I was a coward." He says without a moment of pause. Kate's heart shrivels in her chest as she moves her arms around his neck again, making sure not to pull away as she feels him bearing his soul to her. His eyes are shimmering painfully and his grip on her waist is weak. For a moment, he looks away from her before he turns back. "I had a very lonely childhood, Kate."

She would ask him where he's going, but something about this moment, she can tell is one he's going to remember for the rest of his life regardless of how it turns out.

"My mother would be on stage four to five nights during the week, she'd have four or five performances on weekends while I was left in the care of... underpaid babysitters and off-duty stagehands. And I felt cursed because I was smart enough to know that that's not how it was supposed to be for a kid. My mother told me some fairy tale about meeting some man one night and loving him a lifetime's worth that night. The main reason why I'm so involved in Alexis' life is that I know what it's like to grow up without a father and I refused to put a child through what I went through."

"Rick, I..." She tries, shaking her head sadly, "how long have you been harboring this?"

Rick bats at his burning eyes but can't stop, knowing the dam is burst. "You want to know how I learned to shave?" He asks, his eyes faraway and shaded in darkness. "I had to watch shaving cream commercials." She can tell immediately that it's a memory that's still fresh and painful in his mind, not ever dealt with. "I had to skip school for three days because I was so embarrassed at the result." He admits, craning his neck in front of him.

Kate can't let this push her away. She wanted him to be honest and she got what she was after. He told her because she hopes that he trusts her with it. She can't betray that trust. With a soft hand, she reaches up and puts her hand on the back of his head, gently scratching his hair with her nails then soothing it over with her palm, letting him know she's still here and not going anywhere.

"I was in Rome," he starts again suddenly, looking back up to her, "almost a month and a half ago, in a museum when some guy came up to me." He says, the vulnerable pain gone and replaced with a faraway gaze. "He was about my height, my build, late sixties, mid-seventies at the most. He read me a quote from a book by Marcus Aurelius, then gave it to me and I read it."

"Who..." She starts, wondering what he's bringing it up for, "who was he?"

"Did you ever wonder why you had such an easy time finding me in Doolin?" Kate shakes her head, at a momentary loss for words. "It was my second day there when I was sitting down at the bench we sat on... when that same man approached me." Kate's breath gets caught in her throat, a piece wanting to put itself down into the puzzle in her mind. "He said his name was Jack... and that he was my father."

Kate turns cold in his arms, her blood freezing in her veins.

"We talked for nearly four days, and on the fifth... I went to that bench where I was meeting him and he wasn't there. He was gone." He says painfully, his voice starting to soil. "So... I turned around to go back to my room, walked back down the hill," he stops, snaking his arms around her waist, engulfing her completely, "and saw you."

The moment comes back into her mind in a flash; stepping out into the cold coastal wind, seeing him standing on that hill and running into his arms, hugging him tighter than she's ever hugged anyone in her life.

"And if there's one thing that man has taught me, my father or not, it's that I don't want people in my life that keep abandoning me. And when I saw you, I started to realize that I'm never going to find that person if I abandon her first."

A smile starts to brighten her face and her heart swells back in her chest, the connection she felt lost at this conversation returning ten-fold. "So, we're really giving this a shot? You and me?"

Rick smiles softly and fans his fingers out against her back. "Considering I just told you things I haven't even told my ex-wives or even my own mother..."

Kate smiles and snakes her arms fully around his neck, "Are you trying to guilt me into a relationship, Rick?" She jokes.

"Well, the dinner didn't seem to be working, so..." He trails off as she giggles silently. "And I've heard that people in a relationship often kiss after a date." He intices.

"We're still on the date, Castle." She says obviously.

"I'm not that patient." He answers even as his eyes darken with her's and she moves leans forward, capturing his lips in a hard, sensual kiss. Rick presses her into him as they both draw in air over each other's lips. It's not firey and wanting, just slow and passionate as their lips sit against each other. They each let out their held breath and slowly let their lips part after a long fifteen seconds. "I'll pay and then we can get out of here."

She smiles and nuzzles her nose against him. "I'm liking this date."

"And it isn't even over yet," his brow wags.

Reluctantly letting her leave his arms, Rick puts down two rather large bills down on the table and takes her hand, leading her out of their private room and through the still abuzz restaurant. "Hey, Ricky!" Leo calls from the doorway into the kitchen. They both smile, Kate moving herself to hang from his arm. "So, do I get compliments or what?"

"It was amazing, Leo." Ricky says, putting his free hand over his stomach.

"Yes, I loved it." Kate says, getting tangled up mostly in him as she smiles over to Leo.

"Ah, see? I get a compliment from one of New York's finest. You know, Ricky, you oughta bring her around her more often." Leo says and points over to Kate while grinning up at Rick.

"Count on it, Leo." Rick smiles.

"Anytime, Ricky. Hey, say hello to your mother for me, huh?" Leo says and lumbers back through the doorway into the kitchen with a wave of his hand.

Rick smiles at the host and leads her out the door. "You didn't mention that I'm not a cop anymore?"

"Not when law enforcement get a five percent discount." He says once the door to the restaurant closes behind him. Kate laughs and grabs onto his arm as she shoves herself against his side in jest, looking down to the sidewalk. She can't remember the last time a date had gone this well. "I hope I made up for leaving this morning." He continues as they walk down the sidewalk.

"I don't know." She says, twisting her face in feigned mischievousness. "I think I might have to sleep on it."

Rick laughs heartedly. "If you mean alone, this date didn't go at all like I'd hoped." Kate chuckles as they fall into step.

"Richard Castle?" A woman says in front of them in a stern voice.

They both look up to see a woman about Kate's height standing squared-shoulders a distance of about ten feet ahead of them, clad in pressed black slacks, a pale blue dress shirt and a black suit jacket, her blond hair worn straight into a tight, low ponytail. "Yes?"

The woman pulls back her jacket and flashes them a badge. "Detective Samantha Sharpe, put your hands behind your back, please." She demands while coming toward him and pulling out her cuffs.

"Wait, what? What for?" Rick starts.

Kate steps out of his grasp, "What's going on?" She asks as the detective grabs Rick's arm and spins him around with handcuffs in her other hand. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" She exclaims, moving to pull the woman off of him. She only makes it a single half-step forward before a body is putting itself between them.

"Whoa, Beckett!" She hears the voice of Esposito say.

"Richard Castle, you're under arrest for the murder of Cole Maddox." The detective says and clicks the handcuffs onto Rick's wrists as Kate watches helplessly, held back by the arms of Esposito as Ryan comes running out from between the cars from across the street. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say-"

"Let him go! What the hell is going on!?" She demands, pushing at Espo's arm that's holding her back.

"Beckett," Ryan starts, coming to stand in front of her with a deep concern etched in his brow, "we tried to call you to warn you, but you weren't answering."

"Of course, I didn't answer, Ryan. I'm on a date! Now, what the hell is going on!? Castle!" She yells with burning eyes as the detective closes the door of her cruiser on him.

* * *

_A/N: Would have had this done yesterday, but I heard LeBron by Buckethead and had to spend the day learning how to play it. What'd you think of the twist? C: _


	19. Chapter 19

"Detectives, you are wearing my patience thin." Gates hisses from behind her desk, her three detectives in her office.

Ryan in front leans over Gates' desk with his knuckles on the surface, Esposito by his side and leaning back confidently. Samantha Sharpe, the newest addition to the team, is behind the three at a military-esque at ease position with her hands clasped behind her back and her feet planted shoulder-width apart.

"Sir, with all due respect," Ryan says in a hurried voice, "you can _not _send Sharpe in there."

Captain Gates cold look cuts straight into Ryan as he becomes the focus of her silent rage, quickly boiling over. "And why is that?" She demands, crossing her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot and narrowing her eyes angrily.

"Sir," Espo chimes in with a calm, more collected tone than his partner, "to put it plainly, she doesn't know Castle."

Sharpe looks upon the two of them with the same, unchanging, cold exterior, withholding showing them judgment and maintaining her serious posture, waiting for either her orders or the correct place to insert herself.

Ryan starts behind his partner just as the words finish from his mouth. "Castle has been with Beckett on _dozens _of interrogations."

Espo calmly continues for Ryan, having his back. "He's smart, he knows how the game is played, Sir."

"You send her in there," Ryan agitates Gates, only making the situation worse, "and I'm telling you, he's going to run circles around her!"

"And just _what," _Gates snaps loudly at Ryan, leaning over her desk to send her detective back a few steps, "do you propose I do then, Detective Ryan?"

"Send us in there." Esposito says for him.

Gates sends a shocked brow up at Esposito and a slack jaw, flabbergasted. "Completely out of the question."

"Sir, Castle's our friend." Ryan continues. "He trusts us."

"We know what Beckett means to him, Sir. If he really did this, we're the only ones that can get him to tell us."

"I can do it." Samantha says in a quiet but confident tone, making herself known for the first time since she was ordered into the captain's office. She doesn't flinch as all eyes swing over and bore into her. "With all due respect to my colleagues, Sir," Sharpe says and takes a large step forward to stand next to Ryan, unclasping her hands from behind her back, "I grew up around people like him. My mother was a live-in maid for a wealthy family just outside of Boston. I know how people like him operate."

"Hey, you don't know Castle!" Esposito snaps, turning toward her and pointing his arm at her but is blocked by Ryan pushing him back.

"_That's enough!" _Gates yells, bringing the three of them to a dead silence.

Sharpe just moves her eyes down to the floor as Esposito takes a few slow paces away in the opposite direction, leaving Ryan to stand still and put a hand on his hip and look down shamefully.

"Detective Sharpe, you're on interrogation, room A." Gates orders, her eyes remaining on Ryan and Esposito as Sharpe gives her captain a single nod and quickly turns toward the door and moves in long, quick strides. "Sharpe."

"Yes, Sir?" Samantha stops on a heel.

"Get a confession if you can. The evidence is solid enough but I'd rather not have to take this to court."

"Understood, Sir." She responds and quickly moves out the door.

The captain waits until the newest detective grabs the case file from her desk and is moving to the other side of the bullpen before she lets out an impatient sigh. Ryan and Esposito are simply looking down to the floor, anywhere but at their boss, waiting to get lectured. They both know it's coming. "I was very hesitant to let you two on this investigation when the victim's DNA came back in our system and right now, you two are showing me I was right."

Ryan tries in a soft voice, "Captain, we-"

"Not," Gates stops him, "another word, Detective Ryan." Ryan complies and shuts his mouth, clasping his hands in front of him and feeling his partner shuffle closer to him, still having his back. "I understand this is a personal case for both of you, on more than one level. But here's the bottom line. Someone was murdered on our watch and our job is to bring the murderer to justice." Gates raises her brow up high and leans over her desk, pressing her knuckles deep into the wood. "I don't care who it is. We don't get to bend the rules just because they become hard to enforce, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir." Ryan says quietly.

"Understood, Sir." Espo replies with his partner.

"Now," Gates continues, putting her glasses back on, hanging from the bridge of her nose and sits down, "since you two are so worried about questioning one of your friends, you can bring in Ms. Beckett for questioning." Gates ends the conversation by flipping open a file on her desk and grabbing a pen. "Go."

* * *

Tapping his index fingers together in a slow tempo, the only thing he's mindful of is his breathing. He's glad he actually took the time to read that book his father gave him before it disappeared. If he hadn't taken it to heart, he might be in a far worse place. But sitting here in handcuffs, in a very familiar interrogation room, in a very familiar chair, he's calm. He has to be.

He knows he didn't kill anyone. At this point, there's not much more he can do about the situation.

The doorknob turning and the door flinging open isn't enough to make him shift his attention, but the tall, slender blonde, now stripped of her jacket and wearing very little in the way of makeup, draws his eyes, but not a smile. "Mr. Castle."

He perks a small nihilistic smirk her way as she makes for the chair across from him. "You're going to have to forgive me if I'm not as cordial as you might have heard."

The detective slides the case file to the center of the table and sits down, leaning forward and folding her hands together. "Word around the precinct is you're quite the charmer." She says in a soft, almost scratchy voice. It's an underwhelming voice and he can't tell if she's using this tone on purpose or not.

"I can be," he starts, lifting only one side of his brow to her, "but I'm just used to being in the room with a brunette, that's all."

Sharpe shrugs her shoulders and throws herself back in her chair while crossing her arms. "You don't like blondes?"

"Out of all the questions you're going to be asking me," Rick starts calmly, "trust me, detective, that's the one you don't want me to answer honestly."

The detective confident purse of her lips fades and she leans forward again, flipping the file open. "Where were you between four and six AM this morning?"

Rick flares his smirk at one side of his lips. "I see you've already picked up on the fact that building a rapport with me will be useless, seeing as you're jumping straight to establishing an alibi. You must not be new at this."

"Answer the question, Mr. Castle." Sharpe says pointedly, her voice still soft and underwhelming, but with an undertone of confidence and seriousness.

"I was asleep, in bed." Rick answers honestly.

"Can anyone confirm that?" Sharpe asks, pinching her brow.

"Yes, but I doubt you'll get anything out of her." He says with a faraway smirk. "Believe me, she's never been one to kiss and tell. Now," Rick says and takes a pause, moving to sit up straight in his chair, "why don't we just skip on ahead to the dead body?"

Sharpe stares at him with a pinched brow of frustration and nods once at him. She grabs the first photo from the file and flips it over to his side of the table. "A man named Cole Maddox was found in the stairwell of a parking garage in midtown this morning." Sharpe flicks the photo over to him and Rick looks it over. The man is younger, maybe around mid-thirties, healthy, dressed in all black with a single small bullet hole to the head and two bullet holes to the chest. The body is positioned to sit upright on the floor next to the doorway.

Rick takes only a few seconds before speaking. "This is usually the point in the interrogation where the suspect says something like... I've never seen this man before in my life, or something contrived like that."

"He was shot three times with a small caliber round, twice in the chest with a grouping of less than an inch and a half and once in the head... perfectly between the eyes." Sharpe says, pointing her nail to man's head in the photo. Sharpe moves her head down to catch Rick's eyes and Rick gives them to her, dead. "From what I hear, you're a pretty good shot."

Rick chuckles softly. "You're around me long enough, you'll learn one thing. Never attribute to skill what you can attribute to luck."

"And I suppose," Sharpe says, taking the photo back and putting a DNA report in front of him, "that it was luck that the DNA of Cole Maddox was already flagged in the system three months ago."

Rick's heart skips a beat, but he retains it all underneath, showing very little in the way of wavering emotion.

"The DNA was pulled off of a rifle left at the scene of a shooting that almost took the life of a former homicide detective." Sharpe continues in her underwhelming, scratchy voice. After a pause, letting him stew, she grabs a small evidence bag from the file and slides the bag forward. What's inside drains his blood of life. Splattered with droplets of blood and creased in the top left-hand corner, is his wallet-sized picture of her. "Your partner, Kate Beckett."

His eyes can't leave the picture. The last time he saw this picture, he was stuffing it back into his pocket after Jack had... Jack.

Rick tenses his jaw and shuts off his brain of thought.

"This picture," Sharpe continues after another long pause, tapping her finger down against the evidence bag, "was left on the body... with your fingerprints on it."

Rick looks up to Sharpe with a calm smirk. He can tell exactly what Jack meant now. He didn't get any of what he's tapping into from his mother. "Of course, it has my fingerprints on it. It's my picture." He tells the truth.

"Then maybe you could explain how it ended up on a dead body." Sharpe says, keeping her finger pressed down to the evidence bag.

"Not sure. It's sort of like sunglasses, you know what I mean? You always seem to lose the ones you like the most." He shrugs his shoulders in a small motion.

"Then maybe," she takes the picture of his partner back and puts another photo in front of him, "you could explain this." She says, pointing at a familiar looking beige cloth-covered book, laying in the bottom of the trunk of a car. He knows the cover of that book.

He looks back up to her, still unchanging from his calm smirk. "Marcus Aurelius, you should give it a read sometime."

"So, it is yours." Sharpe only half asks.

"Sort of." Rick says honestly. "I got it as a gift when I was in Rome."

"Then why was it purchased," Sharpe says, putting down another piece of paper in front of him over the picture of the book, "with a credit card in your name from a bookstore in Brooklyn three months ago?"

Rick takes another pause, thinking up the best explanation. He should have known better. "Practical joke, I guess."

"Funny practical joke, Mr. Castle." Sharpe says, pulling out another file from the file and slapping it down in front of him. The picture is of the book, now with the cover opened. The book shows it's been hollowed out and inside, sits a small handgun. "Especially since it was found in the trunk of _your _car, with your fingerprints all over it, and it's an exact match to the gun used on our victim."

Rick focuses all his energy on chilling his heart, relaxing his pulse, disciplining his thoughts and emotions.

"Or maybe," Sharpe continues after another pause, just as Beckett would take in this situation, and slides another piece of paper in front of him, "you can explain why your DNA was found on at the crime scene?"

Rick decides the best thing, for now, is to stay silent and look glassy-eyed over at the detective. Her mind is made up. There's nothing he can about it except wait for his chance to put a seed of doubt in her mind.

"Now," Sharpe says while flipping the file closed and refolding her hands in front of her, "what _I _think happened... is once you knew your partner was safe and on the road to recovery, you decided to get some help from one of those weird connections of yours I keep hearing about. You go traveling for a few months, looking for a way to tie the pieces together, and once you have what you need, you hop back on a plane to New York and you go after the man who shot your partner... and you kill him in cold blood."

"See?" Rick starts with an open smile appearing on his face. "Now that's why Beckett always let me be the storyteller."

Sharpe pinches her brow, purses her lips, and crosses her arms again. "Usually, an innocent person gets pretty angry when they're accused of something they didn't do."

"Is that what you're after?" Rick asks with a grin. "You want me to fly into a blind rage, saying I didn't kill anyone so you can go up in front of a judge and say I have some sort of anger issue? But ask yourself, Detective Sharpe, why would I get angry when I know I didn't kill anyone? Because _you _say so? I don't know you, Detective Sharpe."

"Angry or not, Mr. Castle," Sharpe tries, uncrossing her arms and pointing to the slew of papers and photos laid out in front of him, "the evidence points to you."

"Here's the reality of the situation, Detective." Castle says calmly and leans forward on his forearms. "You're new here, so I'll break my usual flair for the dramatic and tell it to you straight." He says and takes the smirk off his face, looking the blonde-haired detective straight in the eye. "Your predecessor is the best homicide detective this precinct will ever see."

Rick can see the twinge in the confident air that the detective carried with her.

"Now," Rick continues, drawing a long breath in and looking out the window, out into the bullpen, "the captain probably sent _you _in here to, I don't know, get under my skin maybe. Throw me for a loop? But the truth is, she would have been better off sending in Ryan and Esposito." He tells her, pointing his handcuffed hands toward the bullpen. "Because them, I trust. They're my friends, they're supposed to have my best interests at heart. So _them _accusing me of this murder, yes, would have gotten me a bit angry because they're supposed to know me better than that. But you... I don't know. Why would I care if you think I'm a murderer or not? For all I know, Detective, you could have planted all this evidence."

At this point, Sharpe is void of expression and is simply staring at him with a knot in her brow and her stomach. It's a foreign feeling to her.

"And I'm guessing at this point, you can feel just how loose those shoes you're having to fill are on you, so I'll save you the trouble of digging any deeper. If you're waiting for me to say that I'm sorry this man," he says and lifts up the picture of the dead body to her, "is dead, I suggest you get a cushion for that chair. They can get kind of hard on the back. But something tells me you're after a closed case more than you are the truth." Rick says in a low voice and leans back slowly in his chair. "That's what made your predecessor the best."

In a flash, Samantha jumps to her feet, wrenching all the papers and photos from the table and stuffing them into the case file. "You're a real prick, you know that?" She says as she's moving for the door.

Rick grins, "Get to know me a bit more, Detective Sharpe." He says as she reaches the door and pulls it open. Rick looks over his shoulder with a grin. "You'll find I'm actually a lot worse."

Wordlessly, Sharpe turns on her heel, her tight ponytail hitting against the door jam just before she's slamming the door shut.

* * *

_A/N: Beckett will be in the next chapter. To those concerned over the twist, it's probably not what you think it is. If it is, oh well. C:_


	20. Chapter 20

Sharpe slides the barred door closed with a loud metallic clank and clips her keys to her handcuffs back onto her beltloop. "You'll be transferred tomorrow."

Rick looks over his shoulder as he slowly paces deeper into the holding cell. "Can't wait to get on that paperwork, I bet." He smirks and spins around with a flourish.

"Just so you know," Sharpe says in her scratchy voice, taking a step forward and boring her eyes into him, "she wasn't the best." Rick lets her comment roll over him. It's in an attempt to lift herself up more than it is an attempt to push her down, a petty attempt at that to blame her shortcomings on the accomplishments of another. "You want to know why?"

"I'm sorry, Detective Sharpe," he says with a smirk and sits down with a breath of relief once he's off his feet and leans back against the wall, "but the position of my muse has already been filled." He says with a smile and crosses his arms. "But I appreciate your interest."

"It's because she quit." Samantha hisses through the bars at him. "That's why she'll never be the best."

He let's the detective turn and march for the hallway into holding before speaking up in a loud enough tone to catch her attention. "You read Shakespeare, Detective?" Sharpe skids her heel into the linoleum just as she turns outside the entryway into holding and looks back over to him. "Truth is a dog we must to kennel. It must be whipped out, while Lady Brach may sit by the fire and stink."

Samantha, angry and tired of his mind games, shrugs her shoulders and tosses her hands out as she turns back to him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rick grins to himself. He was hoping she's be smart enough to see the symbolism, even as she's glaring at him while he's behind bars. Maybe she does. Honesty isn't an admired virtue, after all. "King Lear... you should give it a read sometime, Detective."

Without another sound, Samantha turns back down the hallway and marches back toward her desk, reaching behind her back to put her handcuffs back into their holster. Her new fellow detectives are already at her desk, standing in front of the white board, waiting for her. They take orders, but she knows it will take time for them to adjust. She knows they can smell the fed on her from her old life.

"Well?" Esposito asks her as she moves around the other side of her desk and opens a drawer to pull out a form.

Sharpe shrugs her shoulders as she's pulling herself up to her desk. "Well what?" She asks, not looking for an answer as she reaches into her black square pencil cup to grab a pen. "He's in holding, isn't he?"

"Did he confess? What did he say?" Ryan pushes her and comes to a stop in front of her desk.

Sharpe doesn't look up from the form she's filling out. She knew this case would cause internal strife. He's not a cop, so she didn't think they'd treat him as one of their own as much as they have been. She's surprised. "He said all the usual things murderers say. That he didn't commit the murder, that he doesn't know how the evidence got there, that he's never seen the guy before. What more do you want?"

Esposito moves slowly around her desk to stand next to Ryan and leans over, pressing his knuckles into her desk. She moves her eyes up to look at where his hand is, but not up to him. "Richard Castle," Esposito starts in a low tone, "is not a murderer. Now, _get _that-" Esposito's hand raises up off her desk and knocks the small toy over that sits next to her monitor and she feels her already weakened restrained break, "through your thick skull!"

Sharpe's hand quickly grabs the small rubber doll and jumps to her feet, staring coldly up at both of them. "He shot a man three times in cold blood, Esposito." Sharpe says in her underwhelming, scratchy voice, trying to control the inferno igniting in her system as she clamps down onto the doll in her hand, her shoulders back and her back straight. "That makes him a murderer. He'll be transferred tomorrow and I'd like to get back to filling out the paperwork I need to request him be labeled as a flight risk so please, step away from my desk."

It's the first thing Kate hears and her already wrenched heart is squeezed again. "You want him kept behind bars until a trail?!"

All eyes in the bullpen swing around to the women standing behind the barricade between the bullpen and the elevator. She's still in her outfit she wore on her date with him, a night that will be with her forever in a way she never wanted. She can see the same detective that arrested him stand at her old desk, looking over her shoulder to her with a straight back and rolled shoulders, in creased slacks and a pale blue, long-sleeved dress shirt with her blonde ponytail hung low.

"Beckett," Ryan says as he starts around Sharpe's desk to meet her halfway through the bullpen.

"Where is he?" Kate orders.

"Beckett, come on," Esposito tries to calm her down as he comes to stand next to Ryan.

"Where is he, Espo? I want to see him."

Kate can feel her replacements eyes bore into her from her right but pays the glare no mind as she hears the distinct squeal of the wheels from her old chair scrape across the linoleum floor. "Beckett, you know we can't let you do that." Esposito says.

"Why didn't you guys call me earlier?" Kate asks angrily. "You arrested my partner for murder, so you must have been investigating him. _Why _didn't you call us?"

"Beckett," Ryan says and gets her direct attention by taking a small step forward. "Believe me, we wanted to call you the _instant _we got the hit back on our victim, but Gates put us under orders to keep it internal and she's been breathing down our necks all day."

"What the hell are you talking about, Ryan?" Kate asks him angrily, raising her voice over Ryan's cautious and hushed tone.

"Hey," Esposito says in a soft voice and turns, "come on." Esposito taps her arm and nods his head over to the open door of the conference room.

Kate lets out a shaky breath and moves to follow Esposito into the conference room. Chancing a glance, maybe to catch a glimpse of him somewhere, she looks over her shoulder to the other side of the precinct and over to the door that leads to holding. Ryan reaches over and takes the file from Sharpe's desk and then into the conference room, closing the door shut behind him.

"Now, what the hell is going on here, guys?" Kate orders, putting a hand on the back of her waist and pacing through the conference room as Ryan and Esposito take seats on opposite sides of the table that's strewn with evidence bags and photos, leaving a seat open at the head of the table for her that she's not interested in taking.

"Beckett," Esposito tries, leaning forward on the table, "come on, sit down."

She would argue with him, order him to just tell her, be her old bossy self ordering her junior detectives to follow her marching orders as she was allowed to what seems like a whole lifetime ago, but in reality was just a few days ago. But when she turns to do so, she catches a look in their eyes; a solemn, heavy look. With a breath matching their expressions, she yanks the chair at the head of the table out and sits down. "What?"

Ryan looks over to Espo for a moment before he opens the file in front of him. "This morning, we caught a case in midtown." He starts, organizing the papers in the file to find the picture of Maddox's body. "Male, mid-thirties, three gunshot wounds to the chest and head."

Ryan slides a picture in front of her and the first thing Kate notices about the body is the attire. They're not normal street clothes. The man is wearing all black, cargo, almost paramilitary attire. Combat boots, dark cargo pants, a wool shirt, and a black cargo jacket. She knows everyday military surplus and high-end government issue when she sees it.

"First thing I noticed," Espo starts and leans over the table to point at the body in the photo, "were the gunshots." Kate looks at him for clarification. "A perfectly executed Mozambique drill." Kate pinches her brow in confusion and looks back down to the picture. "Double tap to the torso and one to the head. It's a well-known drill used by paramilitary to fully take down a target."

"So, the killer's military." Kate says, shrugging her shoulders.

"Or..." Ryan hesitates, "he just knows the move and is a very good shot." Kate's voice cracks as she shakes her head. Derrick Storm used that move in Storm Season at the end of the book. "But what set off alarm bells," Ryan continues, "was this."

Ryan takes a smaller evidence bag from the case file in front of him and slowly slides it in front of her. The small, very worn, wallet-sized picture of her, spattered with droplets of blood drains all life from her body. She even knows where he took this picture. "This was found on the body." Esposito says.

Her heart comes back, frantic and wild in the knot of her throat. "Wha... it..."

"Do you recognize this?" Ryan asks her.

"U-umm..." She tries, attempting her hardest to shore up her emotional defenses, "Westlake... Damien Westlake. After Castle had him arrested, we went for a walk to make sure he was alright. H-he... um... he saw this piece of graffiti that looked like some cartoon bear so he pulled out his phone and took a picture of it. We bantered for a bit and that's when he took... when he took this." She says, tapping her weak, numb fingers down against the evidence bag.

With a shaky breath, Ryan nods sadly. "We wanted to say it was some weird coincidence but... when Lanie got back to us on the victim's DNA..."

When Ryan doesn't continue and lets the words fall, Kate looks up from the picture of her. "What?"

"Beckett," Espo starts and Kate looks over, "the DNA was a match to the DNA we pulled off the rifle that shot you three months ago."

Everything in her stops in that moment, falling away and her entire self becomes a numb shell. The only thing she can physically feel are her scars, making themselves known by burning just as they started to the night before when she was in his arms. She wants him back. She wants him to hold her. "You're saying that..." She starts quietly.

Ryan nods at her. "The victim was the same guy that shot you."

"And... you think that... that Castle..."

"Beckett, we would have called you in on this the moment we found out." Esposito says. "But the prints from the picture came back too soon. And once Castle was at the top of the suspect list, Gates nailed out feet to the floor. Kept us here all day trying to ID the victim while she sent Sharpe out to search Castle's car."

"That's where she found this," Ryan starts and pulls out a larger bag from the box sitting on the table and sets it in front of her. It's a beige, cloth covered book. It's open and she can see that the pages have been hollowed out. "It was in his trunk and she found this," Ryan says, pulling out another bag that holds a small Walther pistol, "inside."

Kate looks to the gun and can't believe her eyes. She can't believe her heart, her mind, her thoughts, her emotions. She can't believe anything. This can't be him. "A Walther PPK, that's..." she starts, tugging at the corner of the evidence bag that holds the gun with her weak hand, "that's the gun Derrick Storm used in Storm Season."

"Ballistics match, Beckett." Espo confirms.

The breath is pulled out of her and she can't breathe. The man she loves wouldn't do this. The man she loves, the man that won her heart, the man that she took to bed the night before wouldn't do this. She didn't feel the hands of a killer on her last night. She didn't look into the eyes of a killer as she danced with him in the flickering candle light just hours earlier.

She hears Ryan turn some more pages before he starts again. "Lanie placed the time of death between four and six AM and... uh..."

"Beckett, you know we hate to do this but... we have to know." Espo says for him.

"Were you with him at the time?" Ryan finally asks.

"Umm..." Kate tries, not wanting to tell them the truth. "We were asleep in bed but... h-he..." She tries her hardest to get the words out.

She hears Esposito let out a hard sigh and adjust himself in his chair. "Listen, Beckett, I'm sorry, but... you're gonna have to tell us everything."

Ryan is coming behind him to justify it. "You know we wouldn't ask if there was any other way. But if you can give us a solid alibi for him, we can have him walk out of here with you."

Kate shakes her head, not even wanting to admit it to herself. "Last night, around eleven thirty... I couldn't sleep so I went down to Castle's bedroom to sleep down there. He was awake so we talked for a bit and..." she really doesn't want to tell them, to taint the memory with all of this. The didn't want to poison the most memorable night of her life with the present any more than it already was by the past. "I took us to bed and we..." she's out of breath, but the words still fall out of her mouth, "we made love."

Her eyes quickly turn down to the table.

"And we fell asleep just before two o'clock."

Ryan is looking up from his notepad in surprise. "Two hours?"

The table jumps and raddles suddenly and Ryan's face is distorting in pain as he leans over the table and reaches down. Esposito doesn't look at his partner and silently takes his foot back, sliding it back to his side of the table, letting her continue.

She doesn't want to know this is true. She doesn't want this to be true. "When I woke up, it was just after eight o'clock and he was gone. He'd left a note saying he had an errand to run and he got back to the loft around nine thirty."

"Did he say anything out of the ordinary?" Espo asks. "Was he acting strange the night before?"

"He was acting a little more seriously than he normally is but... when he got back he was... he was his normal self, not worried about anything. He even made a joke."

"We pushed as hard as we could, Beckett," Ryan says and takes another paper out of the file and shows it to her, "but when the lab report came back and found Castle's DNA at the scene... Gates ordered the arrest."

Kate feels so weak. She didn't even feel this weak and useless, this paralyzed, when she was still in the hospital recovering. She didn't feel this paralysed since before she heard Sherlock's voicebox for the first time. This is just so much worse than any of it. "Did you talk to him?"

"Sharpe got the lead on this, so Gates gave her the interrogation." Ryan says. "According to her, he's maintaining his innocence."

Kate nods and lets out a shuttering breath. "I want to talk to him."

"Beckett-" Espo tries.

"I want to talk to him, Javi!" She cries softly, tears burning in her eyes. "He'll tell me the truth. If he really did this, he'll tell me." Kate argues, looking down from Esposito and to the picture of her in front of her, spattered with blood. "If my partner really did this," She says, her vision of the picture blurred by tears, "I'm the only one that can get him to tell the truth."

* * *

He's closed his eyes and is simply waiting for now. There's nothing more he can do about the situation as it is. He knows who's behind it and if his instincts are right, he'll be making an appearance before he's transferred out of here tomorrow. All he can do now is wait.

"Hi," a soft, angelic voice calls from the other side of the bars.

His eyes pop open and sees her standing there, the same disposition of fear and anxiety that pulled at her features the night before. "Kate!" He says in an illuminated tone and strides to his feet, rushing to the bars. "You're here."

She nods and looks away from him. "Are you okay?" She says in a tightly-wound tone. She looks like she's been crying. It kills the joy that lit up his system when he saw her.

He nods and decides on an approach that will break the tension forming. "Kate, I have a terrible confession to make." He says seriously, earning her scared, tear-laden eyes. "I've seen Forbidden Planet before."

That earns him a small chuckle despite herself as she cranes her neck, a smile wanting to force its way onto her face as she hides behind her hair. "I know already, Alexis told me." She tells him, looking back up to him as he grabs onto the bars.

"Well, can you ground her for me then?"

She breathes tightly and looks away from him. "I talked to the boys." She says finally, her heart stabbing her. His features harden at her new shift in tone. "They showed me everything."

Rick nods and cranes his neck, letting out a long sigh. "And you believed it." She doesn't want to say yes, but she can't say no. "And now, you're here for a real confession... because lord knows the blondie out there couldn't get one out of me."

"Rick," she starts painfully, looking up to him again with her eyes burning. "I don't want a confession. I want the truth." Rick looks through the bars, her hands pressing into the steal wanting to reach for her. "Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do this, Rick."

Rick feels his chest tighten and the image of that man flashes in his mind for the first time. "Kate..." he starts in a low hush, sliding his hands down the bars. His eyes turn down away from her as he tries to check his anger. But he's looking back up, straight into her eyes before he can. "That man put a bullet through the heart of the woman I love."

Her heart shutters violently in her chest and a sob wracks at the bottom of her throat. Her eyes flood over with tears as his face darkens. But it's not from the first of his words. Even through her burning tear, she keeps looking him straight in the eye.

"He got far better than he deserved. I'm not about to waste any of my energy pretending that I'm sorry he's dead just for some poor imitation of the detective I fell for." Kate shakes her head in a small motion of denial, his three words of feeling still all she can think about. Rick looks away from her for only a second before looking back up to her with a softness in his expression. "But I only got to have you for one night." He says, his shoulders sagging low. "Which is about a _million _less than what I was aiming for."

Kate lets the hot tears run down her face as she shuffles forward toward the bars, never breaking eye contact.

"Why the _hell_... would I risk all that for something as petty as revenge?" He asks her, looking her straight in her teary hazel eyes. She feels a smile lift the edges of her lips as she takes another shuffling step toward the bars, now close enough to reach up and grab onto his hands holding onto them. "I'm too selfish with you to settle for only getting to have you on conjugal visits day."

"Did..." she says softly, looking as deeply into his eyes as she can, "did you just say you love me?"

Rick cranes his neck and resigns to his fate. He didn't want this to be the place to tell her. "You wanted to know what happened when you got shot?" Kate's tears turn large as they hang from her lashes. "Well... now you know."

Kate has to swallow a sob as she pulls at the bars, wanting them to come apart. "You told me you loved me that day?" She pets the back of his fingers with her thumb as she looks him in the eye. "You didn't do this." Rick smiles and opens his hands, taking her hands in his over the bars. "What's going on here, Rick?" She asks, her voice soiled with emotion. "Why are they coming after you?"

Rick sighs heavily. "There's something I forgot to mention about the missing branch of my family tree."

Kate's brow pinches. "You mean your dad?"

"He's the one that gave me the book they found the gun in, Kate. He's the one that was with me the last time I had that picture of you. Those things went missing from my bag before I left with you from Ireland. I didn't pay any attention to it because I had you back." He says, petting the back of her hand with his fingers. "He could have easily planted my DNA from any number of things from my luggage."

"Rick, how could he know who to go after?" Kate asks.

"Kate, I told him everything." He says seriously. "He met with me for four days and I told him _everything _about us. I thought he was getting me to talk because he cared about me, but now-"

"He just wanted to see what you knew." Kate finishes for him.

"Kate," Rick calls for her and squeezes her hands, "you can't investigate this."

"Rick, I can't just sit here and do nothing!" She softly cries, pulling herself closer to the bars.

"That's the best thing you can do right now, Kate. If this man is making himself involved in that case, it's about to get _way _too dangerous and I can't jump in front of any bullets for you from behind these stupid bars." Kate wants to wrap her arms around his neck, she wants to fling herself at him like she did on that hill in Doolin, she wants to kiss him hard like she did the night before. "Promise me you'll go to the loft and stay there."

Kate cranes her neck and draws in a congested breath. "You want me to just go home while the man I love is going to jail for a murder he didn't commit?"

Rick's hands tighten around bars angrily, hating them for being here. "I'll be fine."

"How can you have hope at a time like this, Rick?" Kate asks, shaking her head sadly.

Rick smiles and reaches through the bars, petting her cheek. "I don't need hope, Kate."


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: Might lose some people with this chapter. But this is the story I planned from the beginning. Like it or don't. Let me know either way. Broke 600 reviews :)_

* * *

He's doesn't know what time it is. There's no clock in holding and he doesn't have his watch on. It's probably the time in the night when he was supposed to have the woman of his dreams in his arms, sated, sleepy, and using his chest as her own personal pillow. He was going to tell her the truth about everything when they got back to the loft. Letting him know what it was that went wrong while they made love pushed him to tell her everything.

He used her amnesia of the event to his selfish advantage, but he wanted to fix it. He wanted to tell her that nothing had changed and that he thought he left because he loved her, instead of it being because he was afraid his love would have been pointless. He wanted to lead them into the bedroom, turn on some soft music, take her hands just as he did before, look into her eyes, and tell her that she was right and that something did happen and it did change everything. Even if she didn't feel the same way and all she wanted to do was explore what they would be together, he wanted to show her the same exact honesty she's shown him.

But now, laying across the bench in holding with his black sport coat with the white border going around the lapels and the collar as a makeshift pillow, with his leg propped up and the other hanging off the edge, one hand under his head and the other laying flat across his stomach, all he can do is wait.

There has to be a plan to all this. If there isn't some higher goal, some bigger objective and the plan is to just frame him for the murder of her shooter, his father is simply a well-trained sociopath who has no real goals and gets his satisfaction watching this kind of misery. He can't be mad at the new detective or Ryan and Esposito, even the new captain for following the clear evidence that points to him. He doesn't even feel he can be mad at Jack, since he's his only chance to make it out of here. Can he be mad at himself for letting some old childhood loneliness cloud his better judgment and start pouring all his secrets out for Jack to exploit in the first place?

Jack probably subverts people for a living. Why would his own son be any different?

Rick lets out a very long sigh as he decides to close his eyes instead of staring at the ceiling. The situation as it stands, he's either in the absolute worst place he could possibly be, or the best. The woman of his dreams, the woman who's stolen and owned more of his heart than any other woman before her said she loves him. The man who tried to kill her is dead. Framed for his murder or not, he can rest easy knowing the person on the other end of that glimmer that day will never live to revel in his victory anymore.

But all of it could fall away, not mattering in the least, since she said she loves him.

Maybe he can talk her into moving out to the country. Alexis will be in college soon and he can still keep the loft, a place for his mother to live out her days in, maybe. Have a nice, big backyard with a tree. He's always wanted a tree for his kids; hang a tire swing from it, build a tree house, see how high they can climb it. He likes to think Kate would love that just as much as he would.

"Daydreaming, Richard?" A gruff, gravely voice says in the darkness of the holding room.

Rick snaps himself upright from the bench in his holding cell and looks through the bars. Just as he expected, Jack is standing there with that same calm smirk on his face, his hands tucked into the pockets of his ratty old denim jeans with that same old tan cargo jacket on. He has a quip thought up in his head for this moment, but he can't remember it now. All he can do is slowly move his leg down to the floor and sit up straight, staring wide-eyed at the man slowly pacing toward the bars.

"You had a smile on your face." Jack continues when his son doesn't respond. "Unless you're happy about being locked up."

"I'm furious, but what's taking it out on the bars going to change?"

Jack chuckles under his breath, making his shoulders jump. "I see you actually read that book I gave you."

"You could have just told me," Rick starts as he climbs to his feet, softly tugging at the bottom ends of his satin polo shirt, "that you were teaching me Stoicism, you know."

Jack eyes him with that same content look he had on the bench in Doolin. "I don't think you would have listened otherwise, Richard."

"And I suppose you're expecting me to still listen to you?" He says with a lift in his voice, pacing toward the bars. "Two to the chest, one to the head." He says, still not making Jack's expression budge. "Everyone knows that's old-school CIA."

Jack finally cracks and chuckles loudly, a humorous smile appearing on his aged face. "Most of the CIA's operations are in..." Jack shakes his head casually, "public relations campaigns and cultural subversion nowadays. It's a trick they picked up from the Soviets after the Cold War."

"Then what the hell are you?" Rick asks, his voice darkening. "Who are you working for?"

"I can't tell you that, Richard." Jack puts plainly.

"Like hell," Rick demands and grabs onto the bars. "You're working for the person behind her mother's murder, aren't you? He's looking to clean house after what happened with Montgomery, isn't he?" Jack remains silent, just as he would in Ireland, letting Rick either dig his own grave or build his own supports. "He ordered you to kill Maddox because Maddox was threatening to turn on him, didn't he? You kill him, frame me for his murder and I get sent to prison."

"Maddox wasn't supposed to be the target, Richard." Jack finally speaks.

And it makes Rick stop. He thought he'd have to pry and dig a lot harder for Jack to even admit to anything about his involvement. "What do you mean?"

"He wanted me to kill some low-level uniform and frame you for it, so you could get sent to prison and he could use his pull in the NYPD to have it look like an accident when you tried to break free from arrest during transport and have you killed."

Rick's heart freezes. It was all too easy to see and fake and pretend until now. Now, he's scared. He can't correct himself like he's supposed to now.

Jack looks down to the floor for only a moment before continuing. "And once you were out of the picture, she would have started to investigate the case again."

"And then they could kill her too." Rick finishes for him. All Jack does is nod, but Rick has too many questions buzzing in his mind to keep the holding cell silent for longer than a few brief seconds. "But why kill Maddox then? It doesn't make any-"

"Because Maddox was next in line to take the job if I took too long." Jack stops him, talking over his son, silencing him. "I know Maddox's methods, Richard. He's the kind of guy that would simply jam the locks on your doors and burn your entire building down just to get to you. Taking him out made sure he never got that chance."

Rick's brow furrows as his mind is failing to put the pieces together. "What do you mean 'take the job'? Maddox already tried to kill Beckett at the funeral."

"Someone ordered a sweep job." Jack says in a truthful tone. "I was living out my days in a military black site in Montana doing," Jack shakes his head to himself, "profiling work on cracking terror suspects in interrogation when the order went out."

"Wait, a... a sweep job, what's that?" Rick asks, only asking because he thinks Jack might actually respond from his tone.

"It's exactly what it sounds like, Richard." Jack nods a single time. "Everyone associated with a particular person or operation gets sweeped over a very short period of time. When the order went out, Maddox was at the top of the list. When I saw your name on the order, I put myself at the top of the list and accepted the job."

"B-but..." Rick shakes his head, letting his hands fall off the bars, feeling weak. "But if Maddox shot Beckett, that means he'd already accepted the job, so how did-"

"Planting Maddox's DNA on the rifle ensured his operations and movements were restricted. It was a small safeguard until I could put myself in the position I needed to be."

With Jack's words, Rick's heart turns to stone as his mind works ahead. With a cold, deathly stare, he turns his eyes back up to Jack. "What do you mean... planting Maddox's DNA?"

"Richard, Maddox didn't pull the trigger on your partner." Jack says, meeting Rick's cold, knowing stare head-on. "I did."

Rick slams his body into the bars of the holding cell, his arm reaching with a desperate hatred for the man on the other side, vile, heated, seething angry exploding in his system as his hand pointlessly grasps for Jack.

"Richard, I had no choice." Jack says in a hushed tone, just loud enough to be heard over the metallic rumble of the bars being shaken.

Hot, angry tears burning at the back of his eyes, Rick slams his shoulder into the barred door before taking his arm back. "You had no choice?!" He seeths through clenched teeth.

"I did it as safely as I could without blowing my cover, Richard, but the life of your partner wasn't a concern. I'm sorry."

"You _shot _the woman I love!" He practically screams through clenched teeth.

"Richard, I did it to keep you safe."

"_Spare _me the excuses and _tell _me why you're really here tearing my life apart!" He says loudly, not caring if the midnight shift hears him.

Jack looks down to the floor and pushes out a sigh despite himself. "The person who ordered the sweep isn't supposed to have that kind of pull, Richard." He answers.

Rick's body feels drained. He doesn't want to admit that it's because he feels he just heard once and for all that he'll always just be a pawn to his father. He finally knows who his father is, what kind of person he is. All he wanted growing up was a father. He never thought to wish for a father who actually gave a damn. He thought it was just a given.

"The person behind all this isn't supposed to know about people like me or Maddox, son." Rick feels sick to his stomach that he just called him that. "He's not high enough, which means there's someone higher up who's most likely selling the ability to call sweeps from my department. I took the job to flush out whoever that is."

Rick swallows passed his emotions the best he can, feeling a tear leak out onto his clenching jawline. "So the fact it had anything to do with me is just what... a coincidence?"

"Richard..." Jack shakes his head sorrowfully again, "in my line of work, it's best if I just don't exist. I know that, but... that doesn't mean I don't care about you. I took the job to protect you, to protect Alexis and Martha. But to do that job, son, I had to lie to you."

"Don't..." Rick warns him in a low, cold voice, "call me that."

"Richard, by now, he's already started making his move." Jack continues, seeming to get back to the present. "The person behind all this is out of options at this point. He has to know who really took Maddox out and he's probably gotten a call by now. If he doesn't get the situation back under his control soon, he knows it will be over for him."

"Making his move? What do you mean?" Rick demands.

"I told you, Richard. He isn't supposed to have this amount of pull. He'll do anything he has to to get control of the situation back, which put you in the most danger."

Rick shakes his head and tries his best to keep up. "Wait, so that's why I'm in here?!"

"You'll be cleared before they have the chance to transfer you, Richard. This holding cell is just the safest place in the city for you right now, Richard. You have friends here who'll look out for you."

"What about Alexis? What about my mother?!" Rick asks, panicking as he grabs back onto the bars.

"Alexis is at a friend's house on the other side of town. She's being kept inside from reports of gas leaks near by that I had called in and Martha is being kept inside of a rehearsal studio for the night while she figures out why her credit card is being declined."

"What about Beckett? She's the first one they'll go after!"

"I have eyes on her apartment, Richard." Jack nods calmly.

"She's not _at _her apartment!" He seeths through clenched teeth again, his stomach knotting furiously.

That makes Jack stop, his expression twisting in curiosity a bit. "What do you mean?"

"She's been staying at my loft since she quit the force. I sent her back there for the night!" Rick says angrily. Jack turns quickly to head out of holding in a rush, but Rick stops him just as he rounds the corner of the hallway. "Jack!" He calls.

Jack stops and looks over to Rick hesitantly.

Rick can still feel the cold chill of his emotion running down his cheek, having been nothing but a pawn to this man. "I've already had to watch that woman die once because of you." He says with a painful shake in his voice. "If you really care about me at all, then don't put me through that again."

Silent, Jack clenches his jaw and moves down the hall, out of sight.


	22. Chapter 22

The loft is eerily quiet. She's never stepped through this door and felt this haunting feeling bear down on her like it is now. She used to get this feeling in her own apartment when she wasn't able to leave a case at the door, when compartmentalizing her life just wasn't possible. The feeling like the home she's made for herself to be her safe haven is being invaded and violated by trespassers, it's followed her here now.

Kate is standing at the entrance to the loft and just shut the door behind her, now leaning on the deadbolt as she feels her balance drain. She draws in a long, ragged breath and feels her scars want to pull at her, a familiar yet dull pain that she's scared she's going to have to learn to live with. The loft is dark except for the light shining in from the street and the lights mounted above the counter along the wall in the kitchen. She lets the breath out and can physically feel the shadows taunt her, daring her to caution a step forward. The pads of her fingers dig in angrily to her clutch purse that holds nothing more than her phone, a debit card, and twenty dollars in cash as the frustration quickly boils over.

She's stronger than this.

Shutting the door on her emotions, Kate spaces out her eyes, sure not to focus on any one point as she turns to head up the stairs to her bedroom. Her mind is muted, a forceful effort to keep it that way, while hearing only the snapping click of her heels on the hardwood floor of the upstairs hallway. In one single motion, she pushes open the door to her bedroom and flicks on the light, making her way quickly over to the dresser and tossing her small black clutch purse down on top.

When she quickly steps over to her bed and pulls open her duffle bag to change, a thought sneaks through the barrier of her mind. She's pulling out a pair of jeans when it hits down to her heart. She wasn't supposed to be getting undressed this way. She tries to shake it away as she pulls her cotton white cardigan from her shoulders but she knows it won't work. As she undoes the snaps on her open-toed heels, she feels a snake start to coil itself around her heart.

She had her heart completely set on him undressing her. She could visualize it all in her mind's eye, the way he'd pull her cardigan off over her shoulders and use it to pull her against him while his lips devoured her. It was supposed to be a magical night. They were making so much progress. They were prying themselves open to each other. She's never had anyone expose that much vulnerability to her before, never had anyone trust her on that level. She can still remember pushing her body against him and moving her arms around him securely when he told her about his first time learning how to shave.

Kate bats at her eyes as she finishes getting dressed in a pair of jeans, thin black t-shirt, and ankle socks.

He told her not to investigate, but the consequence of possible danger has never been enough to make her waiver or falter. They went after the man she loves. She can't sit idly by and just wait for things to correct themselves. She hardens herself as much as she can and moves out of her bedroom, pouncing down the stairs with as much determination as she can muster up, but the thoughts keep sneaking around her wall the further into the open space of the loft she gets. Martha told her that her and Alexis would be out for the night just so they could have the loft to themselves. He could have hoisted her up in his arms right as they got through the door and carried her to bed if he'd wanted.

Kate grits her teeth angrily and pushes open the door to his office and makes her way over to his desk, grabbing a stack of blank notecards off the corner and pulling the black clip off the top and a pen that's laying next to his closed laptop. She has to organize things if she's ever going to make sense of any of this. She has no access to the case files, she has no power of the badge, she has no access to the crime scene, the body, the ballistics, the evidence, none of it. But she knows this case better than anyone. She didn't make it her life and make no progress.

That thought sours the foundation of her already compromised wall over her heart.

She shakes her head in a small motion as she yanks the cap off the pen and begins to write in large letters, _why frame Castle, _and then leans over against his desk with her palms pressing into the wood, one clenched in a fist around the black clip that held the notecards together.

Why go after him? Why frame him instead of just kill him? What does his father have to do with any of this? Why didn't he just explain all of this? Would he have even been able to? Why is all of this happening now? Why can't they just leave her alone? Why can't they just let her walk away and be happy? Why do they have to take away the man she loves instead of just killing her? Is Castle's father the one behind everything, all the way back to her mother's murder? Is that why he's framing his own son? Or... or is Castle really lying?

Her nails scrape into the surface of his desk angrily as the darkness encompassing the loft seems to thicken like a blanket of fog. She can feel her scars want to pull at her, seeming like they're just waiting for the chance to cause her pain as soon as she decides to move out of turn. After a moment of the darkness taunting her, she lets her eyes drift shut as she focuses her mind on a single thought.

Putting herself back in that cemetery on that hot, humid, windy day three months ago, uncomfortable in her dress uniform and nervous in front of the crowd of mourners as she delivers her speech, feeling his eyes on her and seeing his emotional turmoil painted plainly on his face when she looked over to him, her heart tugs. She can hear the gunshot in her mind and the instant it's relived, her body tightens at the memory of her body trembling with helplessness from the intense, scolding heat of the bullet entering her chest cavity.

She can feel his arms on her, feel his body over her, flashes of light and blurs of sunlight shining in her mind's eye. She can hear his voice in the noisy background of her ringing ears, her body still warping and twisting in on itself from the pain. Kate's nails dig deeper into the wood of his desk, leaving small impressions of crescent moons as his ruggedly handsome features, soured by the expression of sorrow and worry, become clear in the memory the more she focuses on it. The instant she meets his eyes in the memory, she can feel the pain become unbearable.

Her eyes pop open and the knows now why she told him to look her in the eye and tell her the truth. He loves her.

Kate weakens as her legs become unfaithful. She turns and leans back against the edge of his desk and feels her neck crane on itself. How can he be so sure about a good ending to all this? Her eyes burn as they water and begin to spill over and with tears running down her cheeks, she looks up through the open door to his loft and our over the open expanse of the loft. She doesn't even have anywhere she could go if there was anywhere else. She has nothing to go on.

She's stuck here. Castle, the man who stole her heart without her even noticing, the man she loves wholeheartedly, is stuck in a jail cell for something he didn't do... and the only reason she knows that is because she saw it in his eyes, if that even means anything now. Why is she questioning all of this now? What if he really did kill that guy behind her shooting and is just lying to her?

It's when she draws in a congested breath and cranes her neck that the corner of her eye catches something through the open door to his bedroom. She turns her head to see Sherlock sitting upright in the crease made by the pillows on the bed, staring right at her. Mindlessly, she pushes off his desk, fiddling with the plastic clip with her fingers in one hand and moves into the bedroom, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him onto her lap as she sits down on the edge of the bed, facing out toward the door to the foyer.

She smiles as her fingers pet themselves against the soft, light brown fuzz on Sherlock's sides, his tiny plastic black eyes bringing her the same comfort, safety, and love that they brought her from the moment she pulled him out of that purple gift bag at the hospital. It's the same safety that shielded her as she clutched up to her chest that night at her dad's cabin when a wild beast tried to claw its way into her bedroom from outside. It's the same love she felt that morning in her apartment after quitting her job when she decided to stop lying to herself and accept the truth.

That's what this bear has become to her; a symbol of undeniable truth.

"_How do I... wait, like now? Check one, is it... hello?" _Sherlock says as he lays in her hands. Kate smiles a watery smile and struggles a belt of laughter.

_Why the hell would I risk all that for something as petty as revenge? _Sherlock asks her, the same obvious tone Castle used just an hour before in holding becoming audible in her ear.

She knows the man she fell in love with. He wouldn't do this. He wouldn't risk a new life with her for something like that. And as her eyes start to wander over his bedroom, she gets lost in a dream.

She likes it here, but she's always felt that she'd want a place when she got married to call their own. A place with no memories attached to it. A place that's brand new to both of them. Just like her mother told her to do that summer she spent just before she went off to Stanford. Now that her job isn't keeping her trapped in the city, maybe she can talk him into moving out somewhere, somewhere where they could raise a family without the noise and pollution. She's always wanted to have her kids grow up with a dog, like she always wanted growing up. Her dad is probably ready to retire soon and he'd probably love to have grandchildren to spoil.

She breathes out a hollow, emotional chuckle as she thinks that there's no real point pretending that's not where they want to head in their relationship. They're in love, after all this is over, they've got nothing standing in their way from diving head first into it. She doesn't want to waste any time in starting to explore who they are as a couple, how good the chemistry will be between them, how in love they will become. Maybe that's what she wants out of her life now. Maybe that's what she wasn't willing to sacrifice for her case and her job. Her future with him.

Her heart feels incredibly heavy as Sherlock sits in her hands, staring up at her.

"I finally accept the truth and you just won't let me have it, will you?" She says to the darkness in the room.

Kate sits in complete silence, listening to her own congested breathing until a rattle sounds through the loft. Her eyes immediately turn toward the closed door separating the bedroom and the foyer when she hears the distinct jiggle of a door handle. When the sound, cautious rattle turns to a violent thud against the door, Kate's breath catches harshly in her throat and her body freezes.

But it only lasts a few seconds before the sound of the door being pounded against and she's up to her feet, panicking for only another split second. When the door finally bursts open, Kate squeezes Sherlock in her hands and gets an idea as she hears the clack of footsteps come through the door. Taking the plastic clip still in one hand, she pulls back the bedsheets as quietly yet quickly as possible, moves the pillows to form a line down the middle of the bed, putting the covers over them, and placing Sherlock at the top of the bed. She takes the plastic clip from the notecards and clips it down against Sherlock's button, and Castle's voice sounds through the speaker.

"_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _Sherlock says as Kate replaces the covers over him.

As stealthily as she can, Kate moves to the door leading into the office, hiding on the door jam until she can hear the door to the foyer being opened. With her heart slamming against her chest and her lungs straining for a fresh breath of air, she moves through his office on the soft balls of her feet. She's careful to listen for the footsteps go through Castle's office and she can still hear Sherlock sound off from underneath the covers. When she hears the footsteps increase in speed, she moves through the living room as quickly as she can, grabbing the clear glass vase from the center of the coffee table.

She can do this, she thinks as she listens for Sherlock. "_How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello?" _

Sherlock's voicebox makes her heart clench when she can't feel the joy and comfort his voicebox is supposed to bring. When Kate hears the covers being ripped back, she moves around the corner and peers into the open door to his bedroom and can see a uniformed officer standing at the edge of his bed. Her breath stops in her throat and within seconds, she's suffocating.

"_How do I... wait, like now? Check one, is it... hello?"_ Sherlock says more clearly as the officer lowers his gun and grabs for the bear.

Kate moves as quick as she can with the vase in her hands toward the officer, but when a creak in the floorboards echos through the bedroom and the officer turns with his gun raised, her body locks and she can feel the memory come back to her in full.

"_Stay with me," _he pleads, begging her, _"Stay with me, okay?" _

The vase crashes to the floor, making a loud explosion reverberate through the loft and Kate's body is reacting by jumping out of the way and scattering across the floor with the broken glass in terror as she tries her hardest to escape from the gun's aim. Her legs flailing and her socks sliding across the hardwood floor, she frantically runs to her feet toward the open door of the loft. When she hears the distinct sound of the fabric of his jacket scraping as he moves his arm up to aim at her again, it's then that another body appears in front of her.

Kate gasps loudly as all she can see is the dark green fabric of a worn army jacket and all she can hear is the sound of two gunshots booming and popping across the loft. She loses herself and falls, grabbing onto the railing of the stairs to keep from falling on the floor and focuses everything she has on regaining her bearings of the situation lost to her from the moment she lost control of it.

All she sees is a man, Castle's build and Castle's height, just as he described, clutching his right side as he aims into the bedroom, firing off two shots in rapid succession, then another single shot. The next thing she can hear is the metallic clatter of the gun dropping to the floor just before she hears the body drop.

_"How do I... wait, like, now? Check one, is it... hello? How do I..._" Sherlock continues to sound off from the bedroom as the man in front of him, still clutching his side, lowers his gun down to his side with a heavy breath.

After a moment of catching his breath, he looks over to her as she clings to the railing of the stairs. It's then that he seems to smile and he chuckles, "That's alright, I wouldn't thank me either." He says in a rough, gravelly voice.

Kate climbs to her feet, her legs feeling like unmolded jello and her eyes glued to the man in front of her with his arm wrapped around his stomach. "You're... Castle's..."

He's still slow to catch his breath and moves on ahead of her in the conversation as he looks through to his bedroom and nods his head. "He probably used a wire transfer for the payment. Chances are," He continues as Kate moves around him to look into the bedroom, "he probably had some debt he needed paid off."

The officer is splayed out on the floor next to his bed with a small hole perfectly placed in between his eyes, Sherlock resting in front of him, still sounding off his voicebox. Kate quickly moves into the bedroom and snatches Sherlock up in her hands, pulling the clip off his button and petting his side. She pushes out a hard breath and starts speaking as she turns.

"Thank you, but just who..."

The words fall when all she sees is the foyer empty.

* * *

_A/N: Let me know if this chapter is a bit of a word salad. Had to jump around a bit more than I was expecting. _


	23. Chapter 23

_"Maddox," _The gruff voice says over the speakers.

He turns quickly and looks toward the camera mounted at the top of the stairs as a body enters into view. "_Who are you?" _

"_Room A, bottom of the stairs, knock twice."_

Their victim seems to disengage. "_You took the test?" _

"_I wrote the test, kid." _

"That's clearly not Mr. Castle." Gates points out as she watches the video her new lead detective presented to her.

"_What do you want? I'm on assignment." _

"_Don't bother."_ The second older man in the video says before he raises his hand and fires two shot from a small handgun, making their victim's body contort as his chest explodes with plumes of dark red dust, then his entire body going limp as another blood cloud erupts from his head and Maddox falls back, sliding down to the ground quickly, just as they found his body.

"Where'd you get this?" Gates looks up to Detective Sharpe, who is standing on the other side of Gates' desk with her hands clasped behind her back and her feet shoulder width apart, in her usual uniform of black slacks and a long-sleeved pale blue dress shirt, her hair tied back into a low ponytail.

Sharpe simply shakes her head, "It was left on my desk this morning, Sir." She says in her soft, underwhelming voice. Gates only response is to raise her brow. "I reported in this morning and found the USB drive sitting on my desk. What you just saw, Sir, was the first video on the drive. The second video is of the incident involving former Detective Beckett."

Captain Gates pulls her glasses off her nose and leans forward. "From last night?"

Sharpe gives her captain a firm nod, "Yes, Sir. The video shows the officer raise his gun and fire a shot just before he was gunned down in the same manner as Cole Maddox was. The killer had the camera on his person and from the voice, it's the same person. Ms. Beckett was present, but nothing more, Sir."

Gates lets out a harsh sigh and nods. "So, now we just have to figure out who this guy is." She says, waving her hand at her screen.

Sharpe nervously shifts her weight around before blurting the words out. "Officer Bartlet had a suspicious wire transfer of a hundred thousand dollars go into his bank account late last night, Sir." Gates stops working from her screen and points her eyes back over to her detective, silently scolding her as to what made her look into it in the first place. "Ryan and Esposito made the suggestion that Officer Bartlet was sent to kill Ms. Beckett, so I-"

"So, you went digging." Gates finishes for her.

"We're detectives, Sir." Sharpe says confidently, her voice still soft and underwhelming. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Sir, but-"

"Did you find," Gates stops her again, speaking over her loudly enough to cut her off, "where the transfer came from?"

Sharpe shakes her head once, "We were blocked, Sir. The system wasn't letting us through."

Gates sighs harshly again and looks down to her desk, picking her glasses back up by the frame. "You three have been working this case for almost a day straight. I'll take care of the paperwork for now, just..." Gates trails off, waving her hand in the air as her phone starts to ring on her desk, "release Mr. Castle from holding and go home. Yes, Captain Gates." She says into her receiver. Sharpe nods sternly and follows direction out of her captain's office. "I'm sorry, who?" She hears just as she's shutting the door behind her.

Samantha is exhausted but knows better than to falter now. Especially now as she makes her way back over to her desk, where Ryan and Esposito are waiting for her, Ryan leans on the side of his desk with his hands in his pockets and Esposito on the back with his arms crossed.

Sharpe gives them both a look as she reaches her desk, surprised by their silence. "Well?" She demands as she mindlessly adjusts the paperwork on her desk.

"Well what?" Espo asks.

"Aren't you going to rub it in?" She says, giving them both a look as she digs around for the keys to the holding cell in her drawer.

Esposito shakes his head slowly, "Nah."

She breathes a small breath of relief and takes the keys in her hand, closing her drawer just as Ryan is speaking up. "We have to wait a couple days first."

Against everything in her mind telling her not to, she feels a friendly smirk force its way onto her face. "Units are bringing Beckett over here now." Esposito informs her. "They didn't think it was her that killed Bartlet, seeing as she didn't have a gun on her, but the video was a good touch."

"Yeah," Ryan continues, "now we just have to find the guy in the video."

She ends the interaction there and moves out of the bullpen toward holding. She feels something coming, but doesn't want to sound crazy if she's wrong. Having to swallow her pride and admit she has the wrong guy in holding, that this obnoxious dunderhead in holding as actually telling the truth, is hard enough. When she walks into holding, she sees him with his jacket off, his legs crossed and splayed out in front of him, his arms crossed over his stomach and his head leaned back with his eyes closed. She stares at him for a moment and admittedly, he is attractive.

Wordlessly, she jangles the keys and unlocks the holding cell.

The loud clanging of the metal wakes him and his head jolts off the wall. When his vision focuses, he sees Detective Sharpe, in much the same outfit she wore yesterday, sliding the door to the holding cell open. "I don't remember scheduling a wake-up call, Detective."

Sharpe pulls her keys out of the lock and spins the keyring on her finger only once before standing at the door to his holding cell, squared off with her shoulders back. "An officer was gunned down in your apartment last night."

Rick's casually joking facade fall away in a flash at her words and he's on his feet before she can blink. "What about-"

"She's fine." Sharpe says, ahead of him. "Units are bringing her here now." Rick lets out a very audible sigh of relief as every muscle in his body drains of the terror that had gripped him. Taking a moment, Rick catches his breath as Sharpe stands in front of him. He places a hand on his hip and runs a hand through his hair, trying to get rid of the layer of cold sweat that drenched his body. "As for you, a video file was left on my desk this morning." Sharpe continues, catching Rick's attention back. He looks back over to her with an arched brow. "I'm not allowed to share the full details, but it exonerates you of the murder of Cole Maddox."

Rick nods and feels his stomach untangle. As patient as he has been in this holding cell and with the Twelfth's new lead detective, he's impatient to have her back in his arms. He wants this all to be over. He just wants to go home, be with the woman he loves, be with his family, be happy. Let someone else deal with the pits of human suffering.

"It seems I owe you an apology, Mr. Castle." Sharpe struggles after a moment of pause between the two. Rick looks back up to her again, surprised that she's offering one at all, even if she feels obligated to. "I feel I made a rash judgment."

Rick shakes his head dismissively and raises his hand to slow her down. "Beckett and I have put people away on far less than what you had."

Wanting not to have another word on the subject, Sharpe gives him a sharp nod and steps off to the side to let him pass through the door ahead of her. But the thoughts swirling around in her mind and the messy feelings in her heart tangle together as he passes her and starts heading toward the hallway. "I read about you." She stops him.

Rick stops and turns back around, his sportcoat hanging from one hand.

Sharpe looks over to him with a far less serious look, a more open and understanding, almost wondering gaze. "About what you tried to do at the funeral for this precinct's former captain." Rick's heart gets lodged in his throat when she brings up what she has on her mind. He never wanted to brag about what happened that day, mainly because it's not a thing he can be proud of. "You must really care about her to put yourself between her and a bullet."

Rick feels a warm smile tease his lips as his mind travels. After a moment of reflection, on her and his love for her, he casually shrugs his shoulders. "I have to keep her around somehow, right?"

He can tell she wants to smile but can also see her will it away as he turns to quickly move down the hallway. He's excited, if he can describe what he's feeling in any sense of the word. He's paying no thoughts to Jack, no thoughts to Maddox or anyone behind any of this. His one and only focus right now is her, is getting to her and making sure she's okay, is seeing where they are and if they're okay, if they really are where he always dreamed of them being. So much has changed for them, he just wants one chance to be able to sit down with her, not worry about anything else, and just be with her.

And as he rounds the corner of the hallway and moves into the bullpen, he sees her in the area just outside of the bullpen in front of the elevator, clad in a pair of light blue jeans, a thin black t-shirt, and a pair of running shoes, her hair cascading down in soft curls and her brow pinched together as if she'd just stepped off the elevator and is searching for him.

Kate, having been slowly driven over to the precinct after being held at the loft for hours while they looked over the scene, had just stepped off the elevator and can only see Ryan and Esposito, who are just stepping into the captain's office and have shut the door behind them. Scanning the floor of the precinct, she sees the usual faces until, out of the corner of her right eye, she sees a glimpse of him. Doing a startled doubletake, she sees him standing at the other end of the hallway with an open, waiting smile looking at her, in his satin polo shirt that he looks so good in with his coat hanging from one hand.

A smile explodes onto her face and she goes racing toward him.

Rick paces forward just a few steps, not wanting to set his heart on her jumping into his arms. They're at the precinct and she's always maintained, or at least tried to, a professional distance. But as she jogs toward him as quickly as she can without full out sprinting, his arms open up to her and she shows no hesitation in slamming her body against him and throwing her arms around his neck, absolutely no care as to who might be watching or who might judge them.

Hugging her as tightly against him as he can, his arms coiling around her midsection while her arms squeeze his neck and her face is pressing against his neck, he feels her warm breath fan off him as she breathes a sigh of relief.

"Thank god you're okay." He whispers into her ear.

Hearing his voice in her ear, his soft whisper and his caring tone, she hears his words in her heart again, making her eyes burn. She snakes her arms even tighter around his neck at the feeling, wanting to be as close to him as possible. She wants to blurt it out. But she settles for reveling in the feel of his hands caressing her sides while his arms coil further around her.

After a minute, she pets the back of his hair, her nails scratching softly in between the strands just as she did on that hill in Ireland, and steps back out of his grasp, her eyes shining and dancing up at him. His smile is so sincere and warm, his eyes so bright and happy to see her. She feels no doubt at all that this is where she belongs now. No matter where her future takes her, she knows that with him is where she belongs. Moving her hands down to lay flat across his chest, she sends him an emotional smile.

"Are you okay?" He asks, tugging on her sides.

She nods vigorously. "Yeah, I'm fine." She tells him honestly, petting his chest with her thumbs. "Sherlock was looking out for me." Rick laughs breathlessly as his bright, open smile warms her system and makes the want to pull him close to her again intensify.

"Sherlock?" He asks, a smirk coming onto his face and a raised brow.

She smiles and nods at him. "He's a pretty special bear, Castle." She jokes along with him.

He gazes into her dancing hazel eyes for a moment, losing himself in the feel of her hands on his chest and his hands on her waist. But after a moment, he sees her eyes flick away from him and over toward the bullpen. Rick follows her line of sight and looks over to the captain's office, where he sees Ryan, Esposito, and Sharpe slowly walk back to their desks, with Sharpe moving over to the murder board and start to take it down. Ryan and Espo are over at their desks, starting to pack up the case files.

Rick and Kate silently agree, give each other a look, and start to move around the barricade and into the bullpen. "What's going on?" Rick asks, staying close by Kate's side as she comes to stop near Esposito's desk.

Ryan looks over to Castle with a disappointed shrug. "Case got pulled."

Esposito turns, "Higher ups claimed the case is now classified, need to know only."

"Gates just got off the phone and was ordered to pack up all case filed related to Maddox's murder." Ryan says as he pulls up a storage box from the floor.

But Kate is tired of hearing it already. She wants to go home. She wants to get out of this life. She's tired of the darkness. She's tired of having to be the one to face it down. She wants to be the one in the light instead. She's tired of constantly having to make sacrifices just to stay in the same place. She's already tuned Ryan and Esposito out, but she knows Rick wants to hear more.

"They ordered you off the case?" Rick asks. "That's never happened before, has it?"

Esposito nods. "When we tried to track down where the wire transfer that Bartlet got came from, we got blocked. It's all being handed over to the feds now."

Letting it all go over her head, Kate looks over to her desk, what used to be her desk, and feels her heart tug.

Slowly, she starts to move out of Rick's side and over to the desk that used to be her's. It's not that this desk was her home for the past decade or better. It's not that she feels it belongs to her. But on the desk is a black square pencil cup with all identical pens sitting inside, a commendation from school, a plain white coffee mug with black coffee, and hidden almost out of sight next to the computer monitor, sits a small troll doll with yellow hair sticking straight up.

If this were her desk, still her desk, she'd know exactly what would be the most precious to her.

"Your partner," A scratchy voice says in front of her, Kate looks up to see Sharpe step toward her from the murder board, "if you don't mind my saying... he's a little... unprofessional."

Kate smiles warmly to herself and nods slowly. "Don't worry about it," She lifts her hand dismissively, "he acted the same way the first time I interrogated him too."

She hears the slender blonde chuckle under her breath and nervously brush her hands down the front of her creased slacks. "Must be easy to forget about considering he's rich and famous though, right?"

Kate rolls her eyes humorously. "Actually, most of the time, I forget that he is rich and famous." Kate tells the detective matter-of-factly. "Maybe it's because I never really cared about that." She shrugs her shoulders and looks back down toward her old desk.

Sharpe sees the look in the woman's eyes that she replaced. It's a look that holds no doubt, no regret. This woman in front of her is certain. She's heard impressive things about her predecessor, but how can she just walk away from it all and be this... at peace with it? "Can I ask you a question?" Sharpe says quietly to Kate, taking a step forward to make sure it's just between them.

Kate looks up calmly with a small smile.

Sharpe shrugs her shoulders and clasps her hands together in front of her. "Why'd you quit?" Kate's eyes quickly flick down to the floor as she gives the detective a slow nod. "I mean... you were at the top of your field, the youngest to make detective, highest case-closure rate, you were one of the top picks for the captain's desk, I-I..." Sharpe trails off and shakes her head with a knit in her brow, "I guess I'm just wondering why you walked away."

Kate nods and looks down to Sharpe's desk, focusing on the doll hiding next to her monitor. "Are you asking me why..." She says and turns back to look at her, "or are you asking me how?"

Sharpe's brow lowers in confusion. "I don't know what you mean."

Kate lets out a sigh and looks down to her desk again, reaching over and taking the small, three inch high, yellow-haired troll doll in her hand and looks back up to her replacement with a soft look. "You have a black square pencil cup on your desk," Kate starts, "a commendation from the academy, a perfectly organized desk, a plain white coffee mug with black coffee..." it's then that she looks Sharpe in the eye and lifts the doll up to her, "and a yellow-haired troll doll?"

When Sharpe doesn't respond passed a tight crease in her brow, her eyes fixated on the doll in Kate's hand, Kate smiles and looks down to the doll.

"It's alright." She says, waving the doll in front of her. "Mine gave me a teddy bear dressed like Sherlock Holmes."

Kate can feel Sharpe's eyes bore into her, almost angrily. And Kate knows, probably, what's going on inside of her mind. The same thing that went on in her own mind when she had to hear the truth out loud. Looking back up to Sharpe, she decides to tell her what she could have used.

"This is an important job, Samantha." Kate begins softly, the small troll still in her hand. "Families are going to be looking to you to bring their loved one's justice in an unjust world. They're going to be looking to you as a source of good and you can't afford to have anyone see you waver. It demands nothing less than one hundred percent of yourself and the families in need of that justice deserve nothing less. It can be wholeheartedly fulfilling." Kate says with an honest, open smile as Sharpe's eyes glimmer with the same held back grit that she'd see in her own eyes. "Just be prepared to make the sacrifices it's going to ask you to make. Because it's going to end up taking them from you either way."

She can tell that struck a nerve as Sharpe's eyes flick down to the troll sitting in Kate's hand.

"So, to answer your question, Detective Sharpe... I quit because I wasn't willing to make that sacrifice." She says and looks over her shoulder at Rick, who's lost in a conversation with Ryan and Esposito. After indulging herself by the sight of him, she turns back to the woman in front of her. "And as to how..." Kate shrugs her shoulders and hands the doll to her, "you already know how."

Sharpe blinks hard and takes the troll doll from Kate's hand angrily and slams it back down to the surface of her desk, leaning forward to her with a hard furrow in her brow. "You don't know me, alright?" When she turns around and starts to march back to the murder board, Kate can't help but chuckle audibly. Sharpe slows to a stop and turns around, shrugging her shoulders and tossing her hands out. "What's so funny?"

Kate shakes her head with a smile. "That's exactly what I said whenever I heard the truth."

All Kate gets in response is another angry shake of Sharpe's head as she turns back around and moves toward the bullpen. Kate smiles to herself, takes one last glance at her old desk and turns back to the boys, getting Rick's immediate attention when she starts toward them. Rick sends her a soft smirk when he sees her smiling. After everything they went through, he thought she'd be having a rough time keeping it together.

"You ready to go?" Kate asks.

"Uh..." Rick agapes, surprised that she seems happy, even excited, to be moving on. Not a word about the case, no questions, she just wants to go home with him. "Ready when you are." Rick says just as his eye catches sight of the muted TV hanging high in the corner of the precinct.

"I'm more than ready." Kate says and shuffles toward him.

Rick, taking only a moment to look at the screen, can see a headline reading _'Breaking: Secretary of Defense to resign. DC rocked with surprise at announcement'._ The politician is giving a speech, but he can clearly see Jack in the far corner behind him, in a pressed black suit and glasses. "Mission accomplished."

"You okay?" Kate asks, stepping into view.

She seems to break the spell and Rick focuses down on her with a warm smirk. "I'm great." Kate smiles brightly nods her head off to the side. They quickly fall into step as they head toward the elevator, Kate sliding her hands into her back pockets and Rick weaving one arm through her's and putting his hands into his own pockets. "I've got to say," Rick starts as the turn around the barricade, "this has been one of the _worst _first dates I've ever been on."

She laughs brightly and shoves herself into his side. "Well, maybe it isn't over yet." She tells him.

"What do you mean?" He asks on a chuckle as he presses the button. "Getting arrested kind of ended the evening."

"Do you remember how I said I wanted to talk about things?"

"Yeah," Rick says as the elevator dings.

"Well..." Kate starts and looks over to him warmly, "I remembered, Rick."

Rick's heart skips a beat as she tugs him into the elevator by the arm. "Remembered... what exactly?"

Kate's smile grows as they step into the elevator. "Come here," she says breathlessly and takes her hands out of her pockets, weaving her arms around his waist and clasping her hands together behind his back and taking a step into him. "I love you too, Rick."

* * *

_A/N: Next chapter will be the epilogue. To be honest, this story kind of didn't turn out like I hoped. Certain dialogues made it in, like the one between Beckett and Sharpe. The overarching theme played out like I hoped though. Hope you enjoyed! Everything will be wrapped in the epilogue as it always is. I'll most likely continue with Will of the Wisp after this story. I have a few more ideas for new stories, but need to flesh out the full story before I start on them. So, if you haven't, go ahead and give Will of the Wisp a look through if you want. :)_

_A/N2: Couldn't wait so I posted the epilogue. Fanfiction has a 24 hour layover for new chapter updates, so go ahead and read it. :)  
_


	24. Epilogue

_A/N There was another story line I was planning on pursuing instead of the case oriented one that I settled for involving Jim. You'll know it when I address it near the end. Let me know what you think. But, as for this, this is how I would have had Caskett end up. If I were a writer on staff, I would get everyone else sick on the day they wrote the epilogue for the show and force this one to air. It's the ending I've always wanted to see Rick and Kate have. Hope you enjoy._

* * *

"One... two... free... four..." The boys count.

The dad looks over to his wife, who's standing in the dining area off the kitchen in front of the screen door leading to the back yard, in a pair of loose denim jeans and a comfortable wool sweater with a cup of warm, steaming coffee clutched to her chest. The dad, in a pair of jeans, a grey t-shirt and a short-sleeved flannel over it, sneaks through the backyard, over to the right side near the tree, grabbing a red plastic play bucket from the ground near the sand box.

Dad looks over to his wife again and winks. She fights a bright smile as she watches him put the bucket over his head then crouch down inside of a bush, the bright red bucket sitting straight up out of the top.

"Ten! Here we come, Daddy!" The boys call out from the other side of the yard.

Jake is the first to see the bright red bucket and point at it. Reese's giggle makes their mother's heart skip as Jake jumps up in the air when Reese starts comically tip-toeing toward the bush. The boys are half-way there when Dad sneezes loudly, making the bush shake and the bucket raddle. Mom quickly puts her hand over her mouth to keep back the laughter.

Reese points to the other side of the bush, telling his brother to go around the other side, both of them tip-toeing as if they're in a cartoon.

"_Raaaaagh!" _They both yell and jump the bush from the back.

Rick falls forward with his twin sons on his back, a bright, happy smile on his face. Their mother's heart swells happily in her chest as she watches her husband roll around and wrestles with her boys, all of them laughing and smiling. She loves that they had the twins while they still had the chance. Rough housing with the boys has kept them both young. But still, he does love to attend his little girl's tea parties when he gets an invite over his wife.

Rick stands back up with Jake hanging from his neck. "You count now, Daddy!" Reese pushes on his dad's leg.

Jake jumps down from hanging on his dad's neck and Rick quickly jogs over to the other side of the yard, leaving the boys to silently direct each other, pointing around and giving each other silent nods and gestures. Already three and a half years old, and they're getting scary good at the silent twin connection. She can sometimes see them at the dinner table, having whole conversations with each other without saying a word. Mostly, the conversations are about how to annoy their big sister.

Rick counts and doesn't even get to five before the boys take off running toward the tree. Reese is the first one up. When Jake grabs onto the low hanging branch, Kate starts to call out. "Boys! Boys, be care-"

Reese, straddling the branch his brother is climbing up on, looks over to Mom and puts a finger over his mouth, shushing her and pointing at Dad. It's only a split second before they start climbing again.

"Ten!" Rick shouts and spins around. Rick, grappling the air in front of him and moving like a monster through the backyard, looks around and finds the yard empty. Kate pinches her lips together to keep back the laughter when she sees her husband stop just below the tree, put his brow in a straight line as he pouts, and lets his shoulders sag. After a few more seconds of looking around the empty backyard, he looks over to her at the entrance to the house.

Kate smiles, raises a brow and points up to the ceiling with her index finger.

Rick's brow pinches and he looks straight up into the tree. She can hear Jake and Reese erupt in giggles when Dad finds them. "How'd you guys get up there so fast?!" Rick calls.

Kate hears a door down the hall open and the jangle of dog tags come ringing down the hall as she watches Jake jump out of the tree into his dad's arms with a loud belt of laughter when Dad catches him.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Lily calls out from down the hall.

Kate turns around and sees Cordelia, Lily's golden retriever that her parents got for her just before her baby brothers were born, and Lily come around the corner from the hallway and dart into the kitchen with Sherlock in one hand, and Sherlock's felt hat in the other.

"Aww!" Kate coos sadly and honestly as she sets her coffee down on the counter. "What happened to Sherlock?" Kate asks sadly.

Lily stomps to a stop in front of Mom, the mother and daughter separated by Cordelia, showing her favorite stuffed animal to her. "Cordy and I were playing and Sherlock's hat came off!"

"Aww..." Kate coos sadly again, a sad expression on her face as she takes Sherlock and his hat from her little girl, almost turning seven. She's honestly, deeply saddened by the sight of Sherlock's hat torn from his head. Sherlock as become a staple of their family. There wouldn't be a family here if it wasn't for this stuffed bear.

Cordelia whimpers as she sits down on Kate's bare feet. "Can you fix him, Mommy?" Lily asks, bouncing up and down desperately.

Kate smiles and looks down to her daughter. Kate leans down, scratching Cordelia's ear as she does. "Of course we can fix him. Go get the sewing kit and meet me in the living room, okay?"

"Okay!" Lily cries out and jumps around, skipping out of the kitchen and back down the hall.

Kate moves into the living room with Sherlock in her hands, looking down at his bare head and his dark grey felt hat in her other hand, and sits down in the far left side of the couch. With a stone fireplace to the left, her rocking chair sitting to the right of it and her guitar next to that, the room is lit up with a bright light of late spring. She loves living out here. Just like they both wanted, Kate wanted them to move into a place that was brand new to both of them, and Rick wanted to move out to the country. Martha still lives in the loft, but visits her grandchildren as often as she can.

The tree is what sold them both on the land, and they built the house around it, nestled in thick woods out in the country side of New York state. No noise, no traffic, no crime, no grit, no pollution, no brake dust or car exhaust, no city rodents. Just her, her loving husband, and her more-than-a-handful three children. Sometimes, she thinks she got more than she bargained for when she found out they were having twins, but she wouldn't give her boys up for the world.

Cordelia whimpers at her and perks her ears up as she sits down at her feet. "Did you have anything to do with this?" Kate asks Cordelia, holding Sherlock's torn hat in her hand in front of her. Cordelia only responds by laying her head down on the couch next to her leg.

Lily comes running back into the living room and climbs onto the couch next to her mother before handing her the large tin can that holds the sewing tools. "Thank you, Lily bug." Kate says and decides then to pull her daughter onto her lap, instead of just taking the sewing tin from her. Kate opens the tin, threads the needle with a dark blue thread, and starts to sew with her little girl in her lap and Cordelia coming to lay down at her feet.

"Thanks for fixing Sherlock, Mommy."

Kate chuckles softly as she makes the fourth stitch, leans down a kisses her little girl on the cheek, making her giggle happily. "You're welcome, Lily bug." She says as she hears the screen door slide open.

Jake and Reese, instead of darting in, slowly meander back inside and head down the hall with their dad right behind them. "You boys are ready for a nap, aren't you?" Rick says as he scoops up Jake in his arms.

"You know, Lily," Kate says as she rounds the back bill of Sherlock's hat, "Sherlock is a _very_ special bear."

"Yeah," Lily says, pinching Sherlock's foot and shaking it, "he's my favorite."

"He's my favorite too." Kate says, looking at her daughter sitting in her lap. She remembers clearly the day Lily stayed home recovering from a stomach flu in her parents bed, came in and found their little girl of only three and a half at the time with her mother's precious stuffed bear clutched tightly in her arms. It's been her little girl's favorite companion other than her goldren retriever ever since. "You know why?"

Lily turns her head and looks back at her mother. "Why?" She asks in a high voice.

Kate catches her husband's eye as he slows to a stop near the entrance to the living room, looking at his two girls with loving reverence. "Your dad gave him to me."

"Really?!" Lily asks, shifting and squirming around in her mother's lap.

"Mmhmm," Kate nods as she continues to stitch Sherlock's hat, "he gave him to me when Mommy got hurt and was in the hospital. He helped me get better. Just like he helped you when you had the flu. Remember?"

"Yeah, Sherlock's cool like that." Lily says again. Kate laughs genuienly and can practically hear Rick's smile shine from ear to ear.

Kate can feel her husband's loving gaze on the two of them. When she looks up, she sees him smiling warmly over at them, staying silent as he crosses one leg over the other, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and leans against the arch way into the foyer. "Did you know that Daddy even got Sherlock to ask Mommy to marry him?"

Lily gasps and her expression turns into excited shock. "Really?!"

Kate's butterflies swarm in her system as she remembers it. Coming home from a day spent with her father at the hospital to find Sherlock sitting on his desk with a note card sitting in his lap reading '_I finally figured out how to record over again. I hope you're not mad, but...', _she turned around and saw him standing at the door. She pressed his button and Sherlock asked her _'Katherine Houghton Beckett... will you marry me?' _

She still remembers perfectly how she threw her arms around his neck, still clutching Sherlock in her hand as she kissed him. "Sherlock asked if you could marry Mommy, Daddy?" Lily asks her dad.

Rick smiles and shoves off the arch way. "Well, your mother could never say no to Sherlock." Rick says and picks his little girl up off his wife's lap, putting her in his own as he sits down next to his wife. Lily wraps one arm around her father's neck and settles down sitting crossways in Dad's lap as Kate finishes the last few stitchings of Sherlock's hat. "You know Sherlock even has a super power?"

"He does _not!" _Lily says, inheriting the natural skepticism from her mother.

"He does _too!" _Dad says as he puts his arms around his daughter. "Just ask Mom."

Lily turns to her mother with a pout, and Kate sends her a slow nod. "Sherlock does have a super power. And..." Kate says and ties the end knot on the thread and clips the excess off, "it's a very special super power too."

"What is it?" Lily asks.

"Well, Lily bug," Kate says and scoots herself into her husband's side, putting Sherlock back into her daughter's lap, "Sherlock has the very special ability to _always _remind you of what's most important. And as long as he's around, you will _always_ be able to discover the truth. And you remember what I taught you about truth?"

"Yeah," Lily nods.

"What?"

"Truth conquers all." Lily smiles proudly.

"Right," Kate smiles with her. "And you want to know what the truth is?"

"What?"

Kate looks down to Sherlock sitting facing her in her little girl's lap, reaches over to his hand and presses his button. "_I love you, Lily!" _

Lily smiles brighter and climbs over, putting her arms around her mother's neck. "I love you too, Mommy."

Kate hugs her daughter tenderly. "I love you too, Lily bug."

Lily doesn't waste any time after hugging her mother in climbing back over and putting her arms around her dad's neck. "I love you too, Daddy."

"Aww," Rick smiles and hugs his little girl tightly, placing a kiss onto her cheek. "I love you too, princess."

Lily climbs off her dad's lap and jumps down to the floor, making Cordelia jump to her feet. "Come on, Cordy. Let's play!" Cordelia whimpers happily and follows Lily back down the hall.

With a sigh, Kate rubs her husband's shoulder and climbs over, taking the place her daughter just left and sits down crossways in his lap. "I don't know how much more that bear will have to go through for our children, babe."

"Sherlock's a tough bear. He can handle it." Rick says and puts his arms around his wife, just like he had them around his daughter. Kate nods and brushes her hair behind her ear. He can always tell when something's wrong. "You've been thinking about him a lot lately." He states plainly.

Kate's eyes burn intensely and she nods, careful to hide her tears from her children.

"You still think we could have done more?"

Kate shakes her head and drapes her arm over his shoulders and taking his hand with the other. "It was his decision, Rick. You were there."

Rick nods and pets the back of his wife's hand as she fiddles with the wedding band on his finger. He can still remember the day Jim first told him about it. The day they met at the cemetery out of nowhere, the day he said he had just come from a doctor's appointment, that was the day he'd gotten the diagnosis back. He lasted much longer against the cancer than the doctors gave him time for, and Rick was willing to fly in any expert possible to fight it.

But in the end, there came a time when he knew there wasn't much of it left, and decided to go on his own terms. "Are you okay, hun?"

A silent tear leaks out onto her cheek, "He never even got to meet his grandchildren, Rick."

"I know," Rick soothes her, pulling her forward and having her lay her head down onto his shoulder as he pets her arm, "I know."

Kate sniffles and curls up in her husband's lap. "He would have loved playing with the boys."

"He got to watch you grow up, didn't he?" Rick asks, petting his wife's arm lovingly. "He still got to give you away at the wedding. He got to see Lily on the ultrasound. And he always had faith in us. He never stopped believing that we were right for each other."

Kate turns her head against his shoulder, her eyes red as she looks up at him.

"Even when we didn't. And he was right in the end, wasn't he?"

Kate sniffles and pets her husbands chest as she relaxes her head down on his shoulder. "You know, when I was recovering at his cabin, he told me that even knowing that my mom was going to die, if he had the chance to go back and do it all over again, he said he wouldn't change a thing. He always loved the time he spent with us. And he never let me forget that you cared about me... and he always made sure I knew I was marrying the right guy."

Rick smiles as he nestles his head down against his wife. "He was more right than we thought, wasn't he?"

Kate smiles a sad smile and reaches up, touching her husband's cheek. "He was."


End file.
